THESTORTOr 
EDEH 


BYDOLFWYLLARDE 


THE  STORY  OF  EDEN 


THE   STORY   OF 
EDEN 


By 
DOLF   WYLLARDE 


NEW  YORK  i  JOHN  LANE  COMPANY,   •  MCMXIV 
LONDON  :  JOHN  LANE,  THE  BODLEY  HEAD 


Copyright, 
BY  JOHN   LANE 

All  rights  reserved 

Copyright,  1906 
BY  JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 


SEVENTH    EDITION 


DEDICATION 

Pass,  mine  Enemy ,  — 
Friend,  pause  and  look 

I,  Dolf  Wyllarde, 

Have  written  this  book. 


2138998 


PART   ONE 


The  Story  of  Eden 


PART    ONE 

CHAPTER    I 

"Where  the  harder  natures  softtn, 

And  the  softer  harden,  — 
Certes,  sttch  things  have  been  often 
Since  we  left  Eve's  Garden" 

THE  sun  was  coming. 

First  there  was  nothing  but  clear  gold  radiance; 
then  long  arrows  of  light  shot  across  the  fir-trees  and 
vineyards,  which  struck  out  spots  of  clear  yellow  on 
the  distant  mountain-sides ;  then  the  brazen  disk  it- 
self. Not  a  cloud  came  with  him  as  attendant,  he 
sprang  out  upon  Wynberg  as  the  round  horizon  of  the 
world  turned  just  that  hair's  breadth  upon  her  axis  that 
brought  him  into  view,  —  a  round  ball  of  burning  gold, 
he  flashed  up  above  the  fir-tree  belt  into  the  empty 
heavens  awaiting  him,  and  brought  the  broad  cloud- 
less African  day. 

The  sun  always  shot  sideways  into  the  garden  at 
Traveller's  Rest.  He  hurled  his  golden  arrows  across 
the  little  vineyard  and  struck  the  hackia  hedge  with 
sure  and  certain  aim  every  day.  Then  he  pierced  the 
trees  which  stood  sentinel-wise  round  the  house,  and 
having  won  the  outer  fortifications,  he  fought  a  battle 
with  the  shadows  of  the  stoep,  and  won.  By  the  time 
Mrs.  Drysdale  came  downstairs  to  breakfast,  he  had 
got  into  the  room  before  her,  and  was  shining  bravely 
on  the  cool  white  grapes,  and  the  big  bowl  of  olean- 
ders, and  the  empty  space  waiting  for  the  dish  with  the 


4  The  Story  of  Eden 

hot-buttered  mealies.  It  was  no  use  bringing  in  the 
mealies  until  both  Oswald  Drysdale  and  his  wife  had 
sat  down  to  the  table,  because  they  liked  them  hot  or 
not  at  all,  and  in  this  particular  the  Kaffir  servants  had 
found  that  they  were  mild,  but  firm. 

Mrs.  Drysdale  loved  the  sun,  like  all  good  South 
Africans.  She  opened  the  windows  yet  wider,  and 
pulled  the  blinds  half-way  up,  and  made  him  welcome. 
Then  she  sat  down  to  open  her  letters,  while  her  hus- 
band grunted  over  the  paper,  and  the  mealies  appeared ; 
after  which  a  great  peace  reigned  until  the  hot  dish 
was  a  thing  of  the  past.  I  defy  any  one  to  eat  hot  but- 
tered mealies  with  a  proper  attention  to  the  propor- 
tions of  salt  and  pepper,  and  to  talk  intelligently  at 
the  same  time.  A  mealy  is  as  little  to  be  trifled  with 
as  any  other  South  African  representative.  People  who 
have  lived  long  in  the  Colony  know  this,  and  treat  them 
accordingly. 

It  is  impossible,  in  this  world,  to  over-estimate  the 
breakfast  hour,  for  upon  the  influence  of  eggs  and 
bacon,  or  tea  and  toast,  depend  the  issues  of  many  a 
day  —  and  a  day  can  make  or  mar  a  life. 

"  Ossy  —  I  have  forgotten  all  about  the  Cunningham 
girl !  "  Mrs.  Drysdale  said,  and  she  put  down  her  first 
piece  of  toast  to  say  it. 

"What  girl?"  her  husband  questioned,  as  he  turned 
the  paper.  "  I  believe  we  've  lost  another  seat, 
Clarice.  There 's  a  Bondman  in.  Won't  you  have 
some  marmalade?" 

Mrs.  Drysdale  helped  herself  absently.  It  was  the 
toast  which  had  set  her  thinking  of  a  neglected  duty ; 
as  she  crunched,  she  mentally  masticated  her  social 
engagements  at  the  same  time. 

"  Why,  Professor  Cunningham's  sister.  Do  attend, 
Ossy,  never  mind  the  by-elections." 

"  Well,  what  about  Cunningham  ?  " 

."  I  met  him  at  Friedenhof,  —  I  believe  the  Dodds 


The  Story  of  Eden  5 

are  the  only  people  he  visits,  —  and  he  told  me  that 
his  sister  was  coming  out  in  the  Dunottar  Castle,  and 
the  boat  was  in  last  Tuesday." 

"  And  this  is  Monday  —  nearly  a  week.  Well,  what 
about  it?" 

"  Why,  I  said  I  'd  call  and  see  if  I  could  do  anything 
for  her.  She  knows  nothing  of  the  Colony,  and  you 
can  imagine  the  kind  of  household  Vine  Lodge  is! 
Anthony  Cunningham  is  a  Professor  of  Entomology, 
not  a  man.  He  knows  all  about  a  beetle,  and  nothing 
at  all  about  himself,  much  less  his  servants.  Of  course 
the  house  will  be  uninhabitable." 

As  Drysdale  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair  to  laugh, 
he  looked  out  of  the  window  and  caught  the  whirr  and 
glitter  of  a  cycle  flying  down  the  drive.  "  Here  's 
Livingston,"  he  said. 

The  hall  door  stood  open  after  a  careless  custom  in 
the  neighbourhood,  so  the  early  visitor  did  not  even 
have  to  unlatch  it  —  it  was  never  locked  by  day ;  he 
leaned  his  machine  against  one  of  the  pillars  of  the 
stoep,  and  walked  straight  into  the  house  and  the  room 
where  Drysdale  and  his  wife  were  at  breakfast. 

"  Good-morning,  Drysdale,"  he  said  in  a  peculiarly 
charming  voice.  "  You  have  seen  the  paper  I  see  — 
another  seat  gone  !  I  should  like  to  make  a  bonfire 
and  destroy  the  electors  in  bundles.  It  would  clear 
the  country  a  little." 

As  he  made  his  inhuman  speech  with  indifferent 
cheerfulness,  he  sat  down  at  the  table,  and  taking  a 
bunch  of  grapes  from  the  dish  in  front  of  him,  began  to 
eat  them.  He  was  a  man  who  might  have  been  be- 
tween fifty  and  sixty,  for  he  was  somewhat  bald,  and 
what  little  hair  he  had  was  quite  white,  as  was  also  his 
pointed  Vandyke  beard.  But  his  beautiful  blue  eyes 
danced  with  a  great  youth,  and  his  handsome  face  was 
as  fresh  and  healthy  as  a  boy's.  So  no  one  ever  asked 
Beaumont  Livingston's  age,  any  more  than  they  ques- 


6  The  Story  of  Eden 

tioned  his  right  to  do  and  say  exactly  what  he  pleased. 
The  impertinence  of  a  gentleman  may  be  unlimited,  so 
long  as  he  is  too  thorough-bred  to  offend. 

"  You  have  n't  finished  your  marmalade,"  he  said 
coolly,  peering  into  Mrs.  Drysdale's  plate.  "  That  will 
never  do.  It  is  such  a  bad  example." 

"  Well,  you  need  n't  follow  it,"  she  retorted.  "  I  am 
very  much  distressed,  Beau,  —  I  have  forgotten  all 
about  a  girl  whom  I  said  I  would  go  and  look  at,  and 
Ossy  will  talk  about  the  elections  and  forgets  to  pass 
the  toast." 

"Is  she  worth  looking  at?"  Livingston  asked  as  he 
supplied  the  omission. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  have  n't  seen  her  yet ;  I  must 
drive  round  there  this  morning.  What  is  on  to-day?" 

"  The  Dodds  have  tennis." 

"  Somebody  has  tennis  every  day  this  week  !  It  is 
my  turn  on  Wednesday.  Have  you  finished  frowning 
over  the  paper,  Ossy  ?  I  heard  the  cart  drive  round 
some  minutes  since." 

"  What  it  is  to  be  a  business  man  !  "  said  Livingston, 
lightly,  as  they  strolled  out  onto  the  stoep.  "  You  have 
my  sincerest  sympathy,  Ossy.  It  is  going  to  be  in- 
fernally hot ! " 

"  Unless  the  wind  changes  —  when  it  will  probably 
be  infernally  cold  !  That  is  the  African  climate  over 
which  we  all  rave  —  while  we  are  in  England  !  " 

"  Have  you  heard  Mr.  Forrester's  last  witticism  on 
the  weather?  "  said  Mrs.  Drysdale. 

"  I  have  not  — and  I  do  not  wish  to,"  returned  Liv- 
ingston, pointedly.  "  Forrester  is  an  Oxford  man. 
Heaven  defend  me  from  the  soldier  who  still  smells  of 
the  university ! " 

"  He  is  very  amusing,  nevertheless.  Some  one  was 
condoling  with  him  on  the  fearful  changes  of  last  week, 
—  25°  in  one  day  three  times  running,  was  n't  it  ?  — 
and  he  remarked  that  if  one  went  out  in  Africa  one 


The  Story  of  Eden  7 

needed  to  take  a  portmanteau  and  change  behind  a 
hedge  ! " 

"  Not  bad,"  said  Drysdale,  as  he  motioned  to  the 
Kaffir  boy  to  bring  the  cart  up  to  the  steps.  "  I  have 
sometimes  gone  out  overclothed,  and  come  back  sneez- 
ing. So  long,  Clarice  !  I  '11  look  in  at  the  Dodds'  this 
afternoon,  and  bring  you  back,  if  you  like." 

"  Yes,  do.  And,  Ossy,  don't  be  late.  You  might  get 
a  set  if  you  turned  up  about  five." 

"  Have  you  heard  that  Cayley  is  ordered  out  tc 
Simon's  Town  on  special  duty?"  said  Livingston,  as 
the  cart  rolled  out  of  the  gate.  "  It  is  a  sell  for  Mrs. 
Redmayne,  and  a  good  thing  for  his  purse." 

"  Don't  talk  scandal,  Beau  !  I  like  Cissie  Redmayne, 
and  I  believe  she  is  devoted  to  her  husband." 

"  Devotion  to  a  husband  —  may  I  smoke  ?  Thanks  ! 
—  generally  implies  an  equal  devotion  from  some  one 
else  !  If  I  were  married,  and  my  wife  were  devoted 
to  me,  I  should  institute  divorce  proceedings  —  pro- 
vided always  that  the  temperature  was  over  seventy." 

"  Beau,  if  I  did  not  worship  the  ground  you  tread  on, 
I  should  positively  dislike  you  !  I  am  going  to  order 
the  dinner.  Will  you  smoke  on  the  stoep?  " 

"  No,  I  must  be  going.  I  have  an  idea  that  I  am 
busy  to-day.  By  the  way,  I  think  Ossy  meant  to  invite 
me  to  dinner ;  that  he  did  not  do  so  was  mere  forget- 
fulness  ! " 

"  Come  if  you  like  —  there  will  be  grapes  at  least ! 
I  shall  see  you  this  afternoon  at  Friedenhof  ?  " 

"  Certainly  !  And  you  can  take  me  home  with  you  ! 
Au  revoir  !  " 

He  lifted  his  hat  airily,  and  wheeled  his  machine 
into  the  road.  Mrs.  Drysdale  heard  the  whirr  of  the 
wheels  as  she  stood  cutting  flowers  in  the  garden  to 
refill  her  vases.  She  strolled  back  to  the  house  again 
with  her  hands  full  of  oleanders,  walked  in  at  a  long 
open  window,  and  arranged  her  dinner  in  her  own 


8  The  Story  of  Eden 

mind  while  she  arranged  her  flowers.  By  the  time  the 
cart  came  back  from  the  station  she  was  waiting  on  the 
stoep,  and  took  the  reins  from  Leaf  to  drive  herself 
into  the  village. 

"  It  is  really  going  to  be  hot !  "  she  said  to  herself, 
as  she  was  trotted  out  of  her  own  gate  and  along  the 
shady  red  road  between  the  fir-trees.  "  I  wish  we  had 
a  Cape  cart  instead  of  this  open  trap,  only  that  means 
a  pair.  Steady,  Bob  !  I  shall  have  to  let  Leaf  drive 
you,  and  put  up  a  sunshade,  I  believe."  The  pony 
was  pulling,  and  the  sun  was  increasing  in  power ;  by 
the  time  Mrs.  Drysdale  had  visited  the  baker,  the 
butcher,  and  the  post-office,  had  bowed  to  seven 
acquaintances,  and  stopped  to  chat  to  three,  she  was 
glad  to  resign  the  driving  seat  and  shield  herself  from 
the  glare. 

"  I  want  to  drive  round  by  Vine  Lodge,  Leaf,"  she 
said  absently.  She  was  thinking,  as  the  Kaffir  servant 
turned  in  the  direction  indicated,  that  after  all  Miss 
Cunningham  was  only  the  Professor's  half-sister,  so  she 
might  be  possible  after  all.  It  was  so  irksome  to  take 
up  a  girl  who  was  a  mere  drag-weight  socially,  and 
Anthony  Cunningham  was  frankly  detested  as  the  most 
disagreeable  man  in  the  neighbourhood.  Even  his  house 
had  a  repellent  aspect  to  Mrs.  Drysdale's  eyes  as  they 
turned  in  at  the  gate  and  pulled  up  before  the  stoep. 

Her  first  ring  at  the  bell  was  unanswered.  "  I 
thought  so  !  "  said  Mrs.  Drysdale  to  herself.  "  The 
servants  don't  do  their  work  properly — perhaps  there 
are  none  !  I  never  have  known  how  the  Professor  lived. 
The  door  shut  too,  and  most  of  the  windows  !  How 
nasty  and  stuffy  the  house  must  be  !  Ah,  at  last !  " 

The  door  opened  slowly  to  disclose  a  coloured  girl 
in  a  dirty  print  dress,  with  no  cap  on  her  tangled  head, 
and  with  shoes  down  at  the  heel.  Mrs.  Drysdale's  quiet 
comprehensive  glance  had  the  effect  however  of  dis- 
persing the  broad  grin  on  her  fatuous  face. 


The  Story  of  Eden  9 

"  Is  Miss  Cunningham  at  home  ?  " 

"  I  dunno,  Missus  !  " 

"  Then  you  had  better  go  and  see.     I  will  wait  here." 

"  I  've  only  bin  hyar  since  yesterday  !  "  the  girl 
volunteered,  with  a  new  but  fainter  grin,  and  disap- 
peared into  the  dusk  of  the  hall  behind.  Mrs.  Drysdale 
chafed.  "  Dirty,  slovenly  creature  !  I  should  like  to 
have  her  under  me  for  a  week  —  only  I  should  n't  keep 
her  !  When  I  see  that  kind  of  Kaffir  girl  I  almost  agree 
with  Beau  Livingston's  barbarous  assertion  that  the  land 
has  never  been  decently  governed  since  the  abolition 
of  slavery.  Oh,  here  you  are  again,  are  you  ?  —  Well, 
is  Miss  Cunningham  in?  " 

"  Yaas,  Missus.     Will  you  come  in  hyar  ?  " 

She  shambled  along  the  hall  and  opened  a  door  into 
a  large  room  —  seemingly  the  drawing-room,  if  there 
had  been  one.  Mrs.  Drysdale  walked  in  and  looked 
round  her.  Some  one  had  evidently  made  a  half-hearted 
attempt  to  put  it  in  order,  and  then  abandoned  it  in 
despair.  One  window  was  open,  and  a  long  ray  of 
sunshine  struggled  in  through  the  partly  lowered  blinds, 
displaying  the  forlorn  appearance  of  ugly,  faded  furni- 
ture, heavy  curtains  looking  terribly  out  of  place  in  the 
African  summer,  a  moth-eaten  skin  or  so  spread  on  the 
carpet,  a  dilapidated  fern-stand  with  a  few  plants  in 
it,  and  — 

Mrs.  Drysdale  turned  as  the  door  opened,  glad  to 
abandon  her  dreary  inspection.  If  the  room  had  filled 
her  with  pitying  dismay  however,  the  girl  who  advanced 
to  meet  her  made  it  worse.  She  was  evidently  ashamed 
of  herself  to  begin  with,  for  she  had  been  crying  so  that 
her  face  was  streaked  with  tear-stains,  her  fair,  fluffy 
hair  was  untidy,  and  her  clothing  looked  hot  and  un- 
comfortable beside  Mrs.  Drysdale's  fresh  washing 
dress.  The  Professor's  sister  was  quite  a  young  girl  — 
probably  about  nineteen  or  twenty;  her  figure  was 
slight,  and  she  was  rather  small  altogether.  Whether 


io  The  Story  of  Eden 

or  no  she  was  pretty,  or  could  be  pretty,  Mrs.  Drysdale 
felt  it  unfair  to  judge  under  the  present  circumstances. 

"I  am  so  ashamed  of  myself,  Miss  Cunningham," 
she  said,  rushing  into  speech  to  avoid  the  awkward- 
ness of  the  situation.  "  I  meant  to  have  come  to  see 
you  days  ago,  and  ask  if  I  could  do  anything  for  you. 
Your  brother  told  me  you  were  coming  out,  and  I  dare- 
say you  find  it  terribly  strange  at  first,  knowing  nothing 
of  the  country.  A  bachelor's  household  is  always  rather 
a  trial,  too,  isn't  it?" 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  girl,  simply.  She  had  a  pretty 
voice,  and  a  very  English  reserve  in  her  manner.  "  I 
should  be  very  grateful  if  you  would  give  me  some 
advice  !  I  am  not  used  to  housekeeping,  and  I  am 
rather  lost  out  here.  It  seems  so  difficult  to  get  any- 
thing I  want ! " 

"  It  ought  n't  to  be.  We  think  ourselves  rather  well 
supplied  in  Wynberg.  You  see  we  get  the  things  sent 
out  from  Cape  Town.  Of  course  you  must  order  in 
advance,  if  you  want  anything  special." 

"  That  is  just  it.  You  see,  Anthony  does  n't  like 
ordinary  things.  He  used  to  dine  at  the  Vineyard 
until  I  came,  and  he  doesn't  think  I  manage  well, 
and  he  grumbles  at  everything  the  servants  cook,  and 
—  and  — "  To  Mrs.  Drysdale's  horror  the  tears  began 
to  roll  down  her  face  again. 

"  Poor  little  soul !  "  she  thought  remorsefully.  "  She  's 
had  a  week's  bullying  from  a  bad-tempered  man,  miles 
away  from  everything  and  everybody  that  she  knows, 
and  is  very  miserable.  No  wonder  she  cries  !  I  howled 
at  first,  and  I  had  Ossy  to  help  me  and  smooth  things 
over.  I  wish  I  had  come  and  seen  her  before  !  We 
are  selfish  brutes  to  have  left  a  'tenderfoot'  alone 
like  this!" 

She  took  hold  of  little  Miss  Cunningham,  for  she  was 
a  tall  woman  herself,  and  literally  put  her  into  a  chair 
and  sat  down  beside  her.  "  Look  here,"  she  said.  "  It 


The  Story  of  Eden  n 

is  n't  so  bad  as  that.  Don't  cry,  but  tell  me  all  about 
it.  I  know  what  men  are  when  they  are  not  fed  prop- 
erly. It 's  the  servants,  I  suppose.  Have  you  got  a 
cook?" 

"  I  've  got  a  coloured  woman,  but  she  can't  cook 
well,  and  I  don't  know  how  to  teach  her.  Perhaps  it 
is  because  I  am  not  used  to  black  people." 

"  Ah,  that 's  the  great  trouble  out  here  !  The  ser- 
vants are  a  trial.  But  you  must  go  on  bullying  them  — 
it 's  no  use  telling  a  Kaffir  a  thing  once  and  then  think- 
ing that  he  will  do  it.  You  must  see  that  he  does  it, 
and  tell  him  again  every  day.  Has  any  one  been  to  see 
you  yet? " 

"  No  one  but  you.  I  think  it  is  so  kind  of  you  to 
come  !  " 

"  I  think  it  is  very  unkind  of  us  all  to  have  left  you 
alone  for  so  long !  We  are  really  like  a  big  family 
round  about  here.  You  can  hardly  believe  it,  I  sup- 
pose, but  I  think  Wynberg  a  delightful  place  to  live 
in !  It  is  so  gay  —  almost  too  gay,  I  think.  We 
are  so  lighthearted  that  we  are  rather  irresponsible. 
There  must  be  something  in  the  sunshine  that  makes 
us  so." 

"  I  can't  fancy  any  enjoyment  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Kaffir  servants,  and  tradesmen  from  whom  one  has 
to  order  a  week  ahead  !  "  said  the  girl,  with  a  faint 
laugh.  "  Particularly  if  you  have  to  keep  house  for  a 
Professor  of  Entomology  !  You  don't  know  how  tired 
I  am  of  being  miserable  —  it  makes  me  feel  positively 
wicked  !  " 

"  Unhappiness  is  n't  good  for  anybody,  or  moping 
either.  You  want  to  get  out  and  forget  your  trials  for 
a  time.  You'll  come  back  fresher  for  the  struggle. 
What  are  you  going  to  do  this  afternoon  ?  " 

"  I  was  going  to  have  another  try  to  put  this  room 
straight." 

"  Leave  it  for  to-day.     I  '11  come  round  to-morrow 


12  The  Story  of  Eden 

morning  and  help  you.  I  'm  going  to  a  tennis  after- 
noon at  a  house  near  by,  and  I  '11  take  you  with  me 
and  introduce  you  to  the  neighbourhood.  The  hosts 
are  awfully  kind-hearted  people  —  very  rich  Johannes- 
burghers  who  have  settled  here.  Do  come  !  You  can 
bathe  your  eyes  and  put  on  a  white  frock,  and  you  '11 
forget  all  your  troubles  for  a  while  !  " 

The  girl's  young  eyes  unconsciously  brightened.  "  I 
should  like  it  very  much,"  she  said  with  a  faint  hesita- 
tion. "  Will  you  call  for  me?  " 

"  Yes,  about  four.  Now  I  must  be  going  —  Leaf 
will  think  I  have  got  out  the  back  way  and  walked 
home  ! " 

"  I  will  come  and  let  you  out.  Is  that  your  cart  ? 
What  a  pretty  pony  !  I  do  wish  we  had  something  to 
drive  !  " 

"  Haven't  you?"  said  Mrs.  Drysdale,  in  some  sur- 
prise. "  I  am  sure  I  have  seen  your  brother  driving  ! 
I  always  think  he  turns  out  particularly  smartly  for  a 
scientific  man." 

"  He  has  a  horse  and  trap  that  he  always  hires,  I 
believe,  and  that  the  proprietor  reserves  for  him.  But 
I  don't  know  anything  about  that." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Mrs.  Drysdale,  inclusively.  "  You  will 
have  to  have  something  to  drive  sooner  or  later 
though.  Every  one  does  about  here  —  even  if  it  is 
only  a  donkey  cart !  You  see  it  is  really  too  hot  to 
walk  much  in  the  summer,  and  the  neighbourhood  is 
so  spread  that  you  must  drive  if  you  mean  to  visit. 
Do  you  ride?" 

"  Oh,  dear,  no  !  I  have  never  had  a  chance  to  learn. 
I  have  only  just  learned  to  cycle."  The  girl  laughed 
a  little,  as  if  her  amusement  outweighed  her  chagrin 
at  her  own  confessions.  As  she  stood  on  the  stoep 
her  hair  took  a  sunnier  glint  and  her  round  young  face 
defied  even  the  tear-stains  to  be  wholly  defacing. 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Mrs.  Drysdale.     "  I  will  call  for 


The  Story  of  Eden  13 

you  at  four.  Mind  you  are  ready  !  "  "  She  's  very 
English,  and  very  young,  but  she  is  a  nice  little  girl," 
she  added  to  herself  as  she  drove  home.  "  I  think  she 
will  brighten  up  —  but  she  has  had  a  terrible  time  !  I 
wonder  —  I  wonder  what  Wynberg  will  make  of  her  1 
She  has  come  out  too  young  to  retain  her  personality 
and  make  something  of  Wynberg.  Women  influence 
the  Colony,  but  the  Colony  influences  girls." 

Margery  Cunningham  stepped  down  from  the  stoep 
as  the  cart  rolled  away,  and  walked  down  the  garden. 
She  sniffed  at  the  sunshine,  drew  in  long  breaths  of 
the  pure  dry  air,  and  looked  at  the  dazzling  distance 
of  sap-green  vegetation  and  dark  firs  and  blue  moun- 
tains. It  was  very  fresh  and  green  and  luxuriant,  and 
it  raised  in  her  the  eager  desire  to  be  happy  which  is 
never  very  dormant  in  human  nature  —  particularly 
when  one  has  only  had  twenty  years  in  which  to  see 
that  happiness  is  impossible  in  the  nature  of  things. 

"  What  a  fool  I  was  to  cry ! "  she  said  to  herself. 
"  I  like  that  woman.  I  hope  she  will  be  friends  with 
me.  I  am  afraid  she  must  think  me  a  little  idiot  to 
sit  down  and  weep  because  I  can't  manage  the  ser- 
vants and  Anthony  grumbles.  How  nice  and  cool 
and  smart  she  looked  !  I  feel  so  hot  and  untidy  and 
unsuitable  —  I  must  look  nice  this  afternoon,  if  only 
to  show  that  I  am  not  always  like  this.  I  wonder  if 
I  've  got  anything  that  will  do  ?  —  how  the  sun  does 
shine  !  It 's  nonsense  to  make  a  trouble  of  things  in 
such  weather !  " 

She  went  into  the  house  again,  up  to  her  own  bed- 
room, and  opened  the  window  wider.  The  sun  fol- 
lowed her  in,  and  even  the  atmosphere  of  the  house 
could  not  dispel  his  influence.  She  unlocked  a  big 
trunk,  which  she  had  not  had  the  heart  to  do  before, 
and  diving  in  among  certain  fripperies,  found  some 
cooler  clothes  that  were  not  too  crushed  with  packing. 
Mrs.  Drysdale  had  already  given  her  the  idea  that 


14  The  Story  of  Eden 

white  was  appropriate  to  the  sunshine  and  the  green 
world  round  about  her.  She  decided  on  all  the  details 
of  her  costume,  and  hunted  them  out,  leaving  her 
pretty  task  in  a  reluctant  hurry  to  see  that  luncheon 
was  properly  laid. 

The  luncheon  was  most  improperly  laid,  as  she  soon 
discovered ;  when  she  entered  the  dining-room  she 
was  greeted  with  a  mingled  flavour  of  damp  mustiness, 
which  pervaded  it  from  being  long  shut  up,  and  the 
smell  of  burnt  food.  It  was  evident  that  the  Kaffir 
cook  had  not  been  successful  to-day,  and  her  heart 
sank  as  her  eyes  fell  on  her  half-brother  sitting  in  the 
arm-chair.  He  was  waiting  for  his  luncheon,  —  that 
was  one  bad  mark  against  her  name,  she  knew,  —  and 
the  luncheon  was  making  itself  manifest  beforehand. 
The  youth  and  pleasure  went  out  of  her  face,  as  she 
quietly  took  her  seat  at  the  head  of  the  table  and 
awaited  the  storm. 

The  Professor  was  a  tall  man  with  a  narrow  chest. 
His  skin  was  pale  and  unhealthy  from  confinement  and 
the  effect  of  a  hot  climate  upon  his  liver,  but  he  was 
not  by  any  means  to  be  considered  plain.  His  ginger- 
coloured  hair  was  worn  away,  and  left  the  top  of  his 
high  arched  head  quite  bald ;  but  a  large  ragged  mous- 
tache ornamented  his  upper  lip  and  hid  a  loose-lipped, 
ill-tempered  mouth,  and  his  prominent  brown  eyes 
were  large  and  full.  When  he  glared  —  as  he  was 
doing  at  the  present  moment  —  they  were  very  large 
and  full  indeed.  He  rose  as  his  sister  came  into  the 
room,  and  turned  round  upon  her  like  a  snarling  dog. 

"  Is  this  what  you  call  luncheon,  Madge  ?  It  is  half 
an  hour  late  to  begin  with  !  You  know  —  I  have  told 
you  —  that  I  expect  my  meals  punctually.  It  gives 
me  indigestion  to  wait." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  Anthony.  I  don't  think  it  is  more 
than  five  minutes  late  !  That  clock  is  wrong." 

"  Why  don't  you  put  it  right  then  ?     D'  you  expect 


The  Story  of  Eden  15 

me  to  see  to  everything  in  the  house  —  your  duties  as 
well  as  my  own?  The  place  is  kept  disgracefully. 
Look  at  the  table  !  It  is  like  a  second-rate  lodging 
house  ! " 

"  Mary  does  not  understand  how  to  lay  a  table  prop- 
erly yet.  She  is  getting  better,  but  if  I  always  do  it 
for  her  she  will  never  learn.  I  will  come  and  look  it 
over  another  time  before  you  come  in." 

"  You  had  better  alter  it  in  some  way,  I  think  !  I 
had  you  out  to  look  after  the  house,  and  I  am  more 
uncomfortable  than  before  you  came.  Why  don't  you 
make  the  servants  do  their  work?  Why  don't  you 
send  them  about  their  business  if  they  don't?  Am  I 
to  keep  servants  to  do  nothing?  I  have  all  the  paying 
and  none  of  the  comfort,  it  seems  to  me,  —  and  it  is 
my  money,  remember  —  " 

"  Don't  you  think  that  we  had  better  continue  this 
edifying  discussion  at  another  time?"  said  Madge, 
changing  from  red  to  white.  She  could  see  the  half- 
vacant,  half-terrified  grin  on  the  face  of  the  Kaffir  girl 
Mary,  who  was  bringing  in  the  dishes,  and,  though  it 
was  by  no  means  new  to  her  now,  the  humiliation 
seemed  almost  too  much  to  bear  to-day. 

"  No  !  "  said  the  Professor,  rudely.  "  I  shall  speak 
as  I  please,  and  when  I  think  necessary !  You  seem 
to  think  that  the  house  is  yours,  and  you  are  going  to 
manage  things  as  you  please.  It 's  damned  bad  man- 
agement too  !  What 's  this  ?  The  meat  is  burnt ! 
Take  it  away  —  I  can't  eat  that !  Upon  my  word, 
Madge,  I  shall  dine  at  the  Vineyard,  or  I  shall  be 
starved  ! " 

A  long  acquaintance  with,  and  a  habit  of  dealing 
with  Kaffirs  had  given  the  Professor  a  boisterous  rough- 
ness of  manner  when  he  wished  to  enforce  his  opinions 
or  lost  his  irritable  temper,  which  he  found  very 
efficient  in  dealing  with  black  females.  It  had  the 
effect  upon  the  white  female  opposite  him  of  making 


1 6  The  Story  of  Eden 

her  tremble  with  rage  and  nervous  terror.  She  clutched 
the  edge  of  the  table  with  her  hands,  and  restrained  a 
hysterical  desire  to  shriek  as  she  steadied  her  voice  to 
answer  him. 

"  Very  well,  Anthony,  if  you  think  you  would  be 
more  comfortable,  I  quite  agree  that  it  would  be  better 
for  you  to  have  your  meals  at  the  hotel.  I  will  get 
things  into  working  order  as  soon  as  I  can.  I  am 
sorry  I  am  not  a  satisfactory  housekeeper,  but  after  all 
you  do  not  pay  me  a  regular  salary,  so  you  have  only 
my  keep  to  weigh  against  my  incompetence  !  " 

The  Professor  sat  back  in  his  chair  silenced,  and 
scowling  under  his  brows.  He  was  a  little  ashamed, 
and  a  little  conscious  of  having  gone  too  far.  An 
opposition  outburst  was  an  excellent  thing  for  him,  but 
it  was  extremely  wearing  to  the  nerves  of  an  adversary 
who  loved  peace  and  was  unaccustomed  to  screaming 
in  an  equal  degree  to  his  own.  Madge  had  bought  a 
respite  from  war  at  the  expense  of  her  own  luncheon, 
which  she  could  not  eat,  not  on  account  of  its  being 
badly  cooked,  but  because  her  nerves  were  thoroughly 
jarred.  She  kept  a  strained  silence  while  the  Professor 
eat  milk  pudding,  bread  and  cheese,  and  grapes,  con- 
tinuing his  nagging  fire  of  objections  between  the 
courses.  Not  until  he  had  thrown  down  his  napkin, 
and  risen  with  a  muttered  oath  as  grace,  did  she  gather 
breath  and  speak. 

"  Will  you  dine  at  the  hotel  to-night,  Anthony  ?  " 

"  Yes,  certainly,  if  you  can  give  me  nothing  better 
than  this  !  " 

"  I  cannot  answer  for  the  servants  at  present.  I  think 
it  would  be  better  if  you  did  not  have  your  meals  at 
home.  I  am  tired  of  being  abused." 

He  began  grumbling  that  he  did  not  want  to  abuse 
any  one,  but  the  food  was  disgracefully  prepared,  and 
the  house  a  filthy  sty,  unfit  — 

"  Yes,    I   know   all   that,"    his   sister    said   hastily, 


The  Story  of  Eden  17 

shrinking  from  the  thick  Colonial  accent  which 
his  voice  seemed  to  have  caught,  and  which  always 
made  itself  manifest  in  his  tempers.  "  I  am  going 
out  this  afternoon  with  Mrs.  Drysdale.  She  very 
kindly  offered  to  take  me  to  a  tennis  afternoon  at 
Mrs.  Dodd's." 

"  Oh,  indeed  !  I  hope  you  will  look  presentable  then, 
that 's  all.  Mrs.  Drysdale  is  a  very  smart  woman,  and 
she  knows  when  people  are  all  right.  She  won't  like 
taking  a  dowdy  girl  about  with  her." 

He  spoke  coarsely,  and  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
his  victim  wince.  Anthony  Cunningham  had  a  system 
of  his  own  in  dealing  with  a  weaker  vessel.  He  sawed 
his  horse's  mouth  and  flogged  his  dogs  until  he  broke 
their  spirits ;  he  screamed  oaths  at  his  coloured  ser- 
vants, and  harried  his  dependents  of  all  classes.  The 
real  terror  in  Margery's  mind  was  that  he  would  strike 
her,  and  then  she  did  not  know  what  she  would  do. 
The  blind  fury  he  would  have  raised  could  not  have 
found  expression  either  in  the  deadly  revenge  of  a 
woman  of  experience,  or  even  the  momentary  lashes  of 
her  tongue.  Madge  knew  herself  too  young  to  manage 
a  man  with  a  temper  as  ungoverned  as  her  brother's, 
and  in  all  her  twenty  years  she  had  been  treated  with  a 
certain  consideration  and  kindliness,  even  while  she 
earned  her  own  bread.  She  had  lived  for  a  week  with 
a  perpetual  dread  of  her  brother's  violence,  and  a  con- 
stant guarding  against  raising  it  to  extremes.  Her 
hands  were  clenched  and  her  movements  unsteady  as 
she  left  the  dining-room  and  went  back  to  her  inspec- 
tion of  her  clothes. 

"  I  could  n't  help  it ! "  she  said  to  herself.  "  I  was 
getting  worse  and  worse  every  minute.  I  wanted  to 
kill  him,  I  was  so  angry.  He  drives  me.  There  is 
nothing  I  would  not  do."  The  short,  hard  sentences 
flew  through  her  mind  like  blows.  "  I  must  get  out  of 
it  for  a  time,  as  Mrs.  Drysdale  said.  I  can  bear  it 
a 


1 8  The  Story  of  Eden 

better  then.  Oh,  why  do  people  make  you  angry  and 
wicked  for  nothing?  " 

She  looked  out  of  the  window  at  the  warm,  sunny 
land,  basking  in  the  joyous  afternoon.  "  How  silly  ! " 
she  said.  "  As  if  it  really  mattered  —  but  it  did,  — 
down  there  in  the  dining-room  and  the  shadow.  I 
want  to  get  out  of  the  house.  I  '11  dress  now  and  wait 
in  my  things." 

When  Mrs.  Drysdale's  speckless  cart  and  pony  bowled 
up  to  the  door,  Madge  was  waiting  on  the  stoep,  her 
white  figure  hovering  restlessly  between  the  trellised 
roses.  She  flew  into  the  cart  like  a  bird,  and  fluttered 
herself  down  on  the  seat  beside  the  driver. 

"  How  pretty  !  "  thought  Mrs.  Drysdale.  "  And  how 
fresh  !  She  will  be  a  success.  I  am  glad  I  found  her 
—  she  is  my  discovery.  What  has  she  on  ?  A  white 
frock,  and  a  shady  hat,  —  but  it  is  n't  that.  She  knows 
how  to  put  them  on.  She  wants  to  enjoy  herself,  and 
she  will.  She  is  enjoying  herself  now,  just  because  she 
is  young  and  pretty." 

"  Did  n't  some  one  say  that  the  Garden  of  Eden  was 
in  Africa?  "  said  Madge,  dreamily,  looking  at  the  blue 
mountains  scintillating  with  the  heat  at  the  end  of  the 
aisle-like  vista  of  firs. 

"  Well,  if  it  were,  it  was  certainly  round  about  here. 
The  Eastern  Province  is  ugly,  and  inland  is  the  Karroo 
and  the  veld." 

"  And  the  '  Mushroom  Cities  '  that  one  hears  every 
one  talk  about  so  much  !  "  said  Madge,  laughing. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Drysdale,  with  some  dryness. 
"People  at  home  are  very  fond  of  comparing  us  to 
mushrooms,  —  they  think  it  witty.  They  insist  that  the 
social  life  is  the  same,  —  here  to-day,  gone  to-morrow." 

"And  it  is  not  the  fact?" 

"  Wait  and  see.  We  last  a  few  years  anyhow,  — 
even  the  Regiments.  The  Duke's  have  been  here 
twelve  months  already.  True  is  quite  an  old  institution." 


The  Story  of  Eden  19 

"Who  is  True?" 

"  He  is  a  little  man  in  the  Duke's  whom  every  one 
loves.  I  '11  introduce  him  to  you.  He  will  tell  you  that 
he  does  n't  count,  nor  does  he  —  except  in  the  best 
sense.  He  does  unheard-of  things,  and  we  all  say  that 
it  does  n't  matter  because  it  is  True.  The  Duke's  are 
not  all  so  popular.  But  you  will  see  him  and  judge  for 
yourself.  This  is  Friedenhof !  " 

The  pony  turned  his  clever  head  in  at  the  gate  and 
pricked  his  small  ears.  "  All  right,  Bob,  —  no  dogs  !  " 
said  his  driver,  and  he  took  his  way  daintily  up  the  drive. 
"  He  is  afraid  of  dogs,"  she  explained  to  Madge.  "  We 
think  he  must  have  been  hunted  at  some  time.  Most 
Basuto  ponies  have  some  vice.  Bob  bolts  from  a  big 
dog." 

Madge  jumped  down  as  gaily  as  she  had  got  into  the 
cart,  and  followed  her  chaperon  up  the  broad  steps  onto 
the  stoep.  Friedenhof  had  been  built  in  the  days  of 
Dutch  landowners ;  its  walls  were  three  feet  thick,  and 
its  great  beamed  entrance  hall  a  dwelling  room  in  itself. 
The  front  doors  were  wide  open,  and  people  were  pass- 
ing in  and  out ;  two  or  three  girls  in  light  frocks  and 
men  in  flannels  stood  talking  to  each  other  on  the  stoep, 
under  the  climbing  green  creepers.  They  paused  and 
looked  at  Madge  with  some  curiosity,  and  she  saw 
rather  than  heard  them  say,  "  Who  has  Mrs.  Drysdale 
got  with  her?"  —  "Nobody  I  know.  Is  she  a  visi- 
tor? "  —  "A  new  face  is  always  interesting." 

Mrs.  Drysdale,  followed  by  Madge,  walked  straight 
into  a  room  on  the  left  and  up  to  the  tea-table,  where 
a  stout  woman  was  laughing  and  talking  to  two  young 
men  who  were  trying  to  drink  their  tea  with  rackets  in 
one  hand  and  the  cup  in  the  other.  There  were  a  good 
many  people  present,  and  a  universal  chattering. 

"  Ah  !  it 's  all  very  well,  Mr.  Forrester  !  "  she  said,  as 
Mrs.  Drysdale  entered.  "  But  I  know  you  are  not  so 
wedded  to  tea  that  you  would  n't  rather  have  a  whisky  J 


2O  The  Story  of  Eden 

Wait  until  my  husband  gets  you  in  here  alone,  when  our 
backs  are  turned  !  " 

"  On  my  honour,  Mrs.  Johnnie,  I  'd  rather  have  tea 
if  I  'm  to  play  again.  And  some  of  Miss  Dodd's 
cake  ! " 

"  Do  you  hear  that,  Starling  ?  Here  's  Mr.  Forrester 
paying  you  compliments  through  the  oven,  as  it  were  ! 
Your  cookery  is  appreciated  here  at  all  events  !  "  She 
turned  to  attract  the  attention  of  a  girl  who  was  pouring 
out  the  tea,  and  saw  Mrs.  Drysdale.  "  My  dear,  how 
late  you  are  !  "  she  said.  "  I  Ve  been  expecting  you 
this  half  hour." 

"  I  went  round  to  fetch  Miss  Cunningham,"  said  Mrs. 
Drysdale,  drawing  Madge  forward.  "  You  did  n't  know 
that  Professor  Cunningham's  sister  had  come  out,  did 
you,  Mrs.  Johnnie?  We  were  all  in  the  dark,  and  I 
found  her  quite  dull  with  seeing  nobody,  and  beginning 
to  think  that  Africa  was  indeed  a  desert ;  so  I  brought 
her  with  me  by  force  to  have  that  idea  dispelled.  We 
can't  let  her  write  home  and  tell  them  that  the  Colony 
is  a  dreadful  exile,  can  we?" 

"  No,  indeed  !  We  must  break  you  of  that  impres- 
sion, my  dear  !  "  The  stout  lady  took  Madge's  hand 
in  both  hers  and  shook  it  heartily.  "  So  you  Ve  only 
just  come  out !  Were  n't  you  sorry  to  leave  all  the  gay 
doings  of  the  Diamond  Jubilee  behind  you  ?  Not  but 
what  we  keep  it  up  pretty  well  here  !  There  is  plenty 
to  do  roundabouts,  and  I  always  think  the  young  people 
have  a  good  time  of  it.  Starling  !  This  is  Miss  Cun- 
ningham —  my  daughter  !  " 

"  How  pretty  and  soft  she  is  ! "  Madge  thought  to 
herself,  as  Miss  Dodd  turned  from  the  tea-tray  and  pro- 
ceeded to  make  friends.  "  She  is  about  my  age,  but 
she  is  n't  nearly  so  shy  as  I  feel.  I  like  her  dark  hair 
and  eyes,  and  the  little  lisp  in  her  voice.  I  wonder  why 
they  call  her  Starling?" 

"Do  you  play  tennis?"  Starling  said.  It  was  an 
inevitable  question.  Madge  answered,  "A  little." 


The  Story  of  Eden  21 

"  We  will  make  up  a  set  as  soon  as  you  have  had 
your  tea.  Mr.  Livingston,  will  you  give  Miss  Cunning- 
ham some  cake  ?  Mr.  Livingston  —  Miss  Cunningham. 
I  will  find  you  a  good  partner,  Miss  Cunningham,  as 
you  say  you  are  out  of  practice,  and  he  can  take  all  the 
hard  work.  I  wonder  where  True  is?  I  am  afraid  he 
has  just  been  playing." 

Madge  looked  up  as  a  long  sensitive  hand  offered  her 
the  cake,  and  smiled.  "  Not  quite  such  a  large  piece, 
please  !  "  she  said. 

"  Nonsense  !  I  am  quite  sure  you  would  eat  all  that, 
and  then  break  all  the  sugar  off  the  top  and  pick  out 
the  plums  if  there  were  no  one  here  to  see  !  " 

"  I  daresay  I  should.     Would  n't  you?  " 

"  I  will  now,  if  you  will  come  into  a  corner  with  me 
and  share  the  plunder.  Look  there,  —  we  will  take 
those  two  seats  by  the  sideboard,  behind  Johnnie  Dodd. 
His  back  makes  a  most  effective  screen  !  Do  you  know 
Johnnie  Dodd?" 

"  I  don't  know  any  one,"  said  Madge,  looking  up  at 
the  fat  black  back  behind  which  Mr.  Livingston  had 
settled  her.  "  Is  he  our  host  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  quite  certain.  Sometimes  I  think  he  is, 
and  sometimes  I  think  he  is  only  a  host  in  himself. 
He  is  one  of  the  nicest  men  hereabouts,  —  but  then, 
we  are  all  rather  nice." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Livingston  !  What  are  you  doing  !  You 
have  really  cut  off  all  the  sugar  top  !  " 

"  Of  course  I  have.  There  !  That  is  half  for  you 
and  half  for  me.  Now  if  any  one  discovers  us,  I  shall 
say  it  is  all  your  fault !  Ah,  I  hoped  you  would 
laugh  ! " 

"Why?" 

"Because  your  laugh  is  particularly  pretty.  Here 
is  Starling  coming  to  rout  us  out,  and  I  am  not  at  all 
pleased.  My  dear  girl,  when  will  you  learn  not  to 
interrupt  when  not  wanted?" 


22  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  Don't  take  any  notice  of  him,  Miss  Cunningham. 
Nobody  here  does.  We  have  all  got  so  used  to  him 
that  I  am  afraid  he  says  many  things  unrebuked  that 
we  ought  to  suppress.  Will  you  play  with  me,  Mr. 
Livingston?  I  can't  find  True,  but  I  think  he  is  on 
the  court.  We  will  go  and  see." 

"  No,  I  am  going  to  play  with  Miss  Cunningham. 
Have  you  got  your  shoes  on,  Miss  Cunningham  ? 
Yes  ?  I  wonder  where  you  get  your  shoes  !  " 

"  I  brought  these  from  home  with  me." 

"  Don't  wear  them  out.  You  won't  find  it  easy  to 
replace  them." 

"  I  thought  you  had  such  good  shops  in  Cape 
Town ! " 

"  Ah,  but  they  don't  keep  small  sizes  enough.  (I 
hope  she  won't  lose  her  faculty  of  blushing,  very  soon. 
That  was  as  delicious  as  a  winter  sunset.)  Who  is 
going  to  play  with  you  against  us,  Starling?  "  he  added 
aloud. 

"True,  if  I  can  get  him.  I  shall  see.  Miss  Cun- 
ningham has  not  yet  said  that  she  will  play  with  you, 
however." 

"  That  is  jealousy  !  "  said  Beau,  airily.  "  Notice 
the  malicious  way  in  which  she  tries  to  part  us,  Miss 
Cunningham  !  Last  week  I  was  her  slave,  —  she  can- 
not bear  being  dethroned  !  " 

Madge  felt  rather  as  if  her  head  were  whirling.  The 
light  chatter  all  round  her  in  the  tea-room,  which  had 
seemed  to  her  crowded,  the  way  that  this  man  with  the 
pointed  white  beard  and  the  young  eyes  rattled  on, 
Starling's  careless  verbal  retorts  flung  over  her  shoul- 
der as  she  led  the  way,  —  all  coming  together  after  her 
week's  depression,  and  seeing  no  one  but  her  brother, 
made  her  a  little  bewildered.  They  were  approaching 
the  tennis  ground  through  the  plumbago  walk,  and  she 
glanced  up  longingly  at  the  clusters  of  exquisite  flowers 
hanging  over  her  head. 


The  Story  of  Eden  23 

"Do  you  want  some ?"  Livingston  asked,  stopping 
to  pull  a  spray  carelessly  down. 

"  If  I  might  have  a  piece  to  wear.  Oh,  that 's 
enough,  —  don't  pull  any  more  !  " 

"  Nonsense  !  I  am  always  saying  nonsense  to  you. 
Johnnie  Dodd  would  be  delighted  to  give  you  the 
whole  hedge.  Let  me  put  it  into  your  waistband  for 
you." 

His  delicate,  characteristic  fingers  tucked  the  flow- 
ers into  her  belt,  with  a  familiarity  which  made  Madge 
take  a  reassuring  glance  at  his  white  hair  to  excuse 
herself.  Starling  had  gone  on  in  front  ;  Madge  fol- 
lowed her  with  a  quickened  step,  and  then  asked 
herself  why  with  some  annoyance. 

"  I  can't  get  used  to  the  gravel  courts,"  she  said, 
hastily,  as  they  emerged  opposite  the  netted  square 
among  the  fir-trees. 

"They  are  all  gravel  here.  It  makes  the  game 
much  quicker.  I  have  come  to  prefer  these  shady 
netted  courts  to  the  open  field  in  which  people  always 
play  in  England,  with  the  sun  blinding  you  on  one  side, 
and  the  balls  going  into  the  next  county  on  the  other." 

"  I  can't  find  True ;  he  has  gone  to  the  house  for 
tea,  I  suppose.  I  will  get  some  one  else.  Will  you 
take  your  places?"  Starling  said. 

Madge  was  becoming  curious  over  the  ever-recurring 
True,  and  was  sorry  he  was  not  her  adversary.  She 
had  not  much  time  to  discover  who  that  was,  or  what 
he  was  like,  before  the  game  began,  and  then  all  the 
attention  she  could  spare  from  her  balls  was  given  to 
her  partner.  Considering  his  age,  Beaumont  Living- 
ston was  a  wonderful  player.  Madge  was  nervous  and 
out  of  practice,  but  her  admiration  for  the  cool  man- 
ner in  which  he  covered  her  mistakes  made  her  do  her 
best,  and  they  only  lost  the  set  by  one  game. 

"  I  congratulate  ourselves,"  he  said.  "  If  our  oppo- 
nents had  not  played  in  such  exceedingly  bad  form 


24  The  Story  of  Eden 

—  Starling,  listen  to  what  I  am  saying  !  —  we  should 
have  won.  They  placed  all  their  balls,  and  screwed 
their  service.  It  is  better  to  have  lost  the  set  by  one 
than  to  have  gained  it  in  such  a  dastardly  fashion." 

"  I  will  throw  all  the  balls  at  you  if  you  say  another 
word,"  said  Starling,  coming  up  to  the  other  side  of 
the  net.  "  We  won  by  sheer  good  play,  did  n't  we  ?  " 
she  added  to  her  partner  over  her  shoulder.  Starling 
had  a  way  of  turning  her  head  like  a  bird,  and  tossing 
her  soft-voiced  words  to  people  at  a  distance,  who 
generally  caught  them  deftly,  as  something  precious. 

"  Good  play  is  never  sheer,"  said  Livingston,  adroitly. 
"  Look  at  that  woman  who  has  just  arrived,  Miss  Cun- 
ningham !  Does  n't  she  remind  you  of  a  vinegar  bottle 
with  the  cork  left  out  ?  She  is  very  good.  Very  good 
people  always  make  me  long  to  label  them  and  put 
them  on  a  shelf  in  rows  —  until  wanted." 

"  Only  no  one  ever  would  want  them,"  said  Starling. 
"  The  dust  of  ages  would  accumulate  on  Mrs.  Naseby 
before  I  took  her  down  again.  She  is  talking  scandal 
to  Polly  Harbord.  I  know  by  the  way  her  under  lip 
shoots  in  and  out." 

Madge  laughed  outright,  and  then,  remembering 
Mr.  Livingston's  eulogium,  blushed,  to  his  greater 
pleasure.  She  looked  away  from  him,  conscious  of 
his  enjoyment,  and  her  eyes  encountered  those  of  her 
late  adversary  and  Starling's  partner.  At  the  first 
glance  she  thought  him  the  handsomest  man  she  had 
ever  seen,  but  then  her  experience  was  limited  to  a 
small  country  town  in  England,  and  the  voyage  out, 
during  which  she  had  been  too  ill  to  get  to  know  one 
third  of  the  passengers. 

" I  wonder  who  he  is? "  she  thought,  while  her  eyes 
still  met  his.  Something  passed  between  them,  —  she 
did  not  know  what, —  some  recognition  of  a  mutual 
attraction  that  seemed  even  in  that  first  minute  to 
have  been  of  long  duration.  And  it  was  just  then  that 


The  Story  of  Eden  25 

Starling  said :  "  Well,  you  have  been  a  long  while  !  I 
hope  you  made  a  good  tea,"  very  sarcastically,  and 
added,  "  Captain  Truman,  —  Miss  Cunningham,"  which 
distracted  Madge's  attention. 

"  I  have  heard  of  you  so  often,"  she  collected  herself 
to  say,  as  she  shook  hands. 

"  Why  ? "  asked  the  newcomer,  gently.  He  still 
held  her  ringers  in  his  and  smiled  at  her  out  of  a  most 
expressive  pair  of  eyes.  He  was  totally  unlike  what 
Madge  had  expected,  being  short  and  broad-shoul- 
dered, while  she  had  thought  he  would  be  dapper  and 
weedy.  His  features  were  good,  and  his  face  much 
sunburnt,  but  his  eyes  were  undoubtedly  his  attraction. 
They  could,  and  did,  say  anything,  and  his  quick  soft 
voice  only  echoed  their  sentiments. 

"  Your  friends  are  always  speaking  of  you,"  said 
Madge. 

"  I  hope  they  were  kind." 

"  I  don't  think  they  were  unkind.  But  they  gave 
me  an  erroneous  impression,  all  the  same." 

"  I  will  give  you  a  chance  to  correct  it  as  much  as 
you  like.  Will  you  play  the  next  set  with  me?  " 

"  Ah,  you  come  too  late  !  I  have  just  played  with 
Mr.  Livingston." 

"  Later  on  then.  We  can  go  and  sit  down  together 
and  watch  this  game.  Then  you  will  begin  to  find  out 
what  I  am  really  like." 

"  I  am  finding  out  now.  Are  you  aware  that  you  are 
still  holding  my  hand  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  was  just  thinking  how  nice  it  was  of  you  to 
leave  it  there.  It  was  quite  comfortable,  was  n't  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  really  !  "  Madge  said  rather  breathlessly. 

"  It  does  n't  matter  what  I  do,  you  know.  I  don't 
count." 

"So  I  hear.  I  am  rather  glad.  It  must  be  so 
nice." 

He  nodded.     "  It  is  nice.     Will  you  come  and  sit 


i6  The  Story  of  Eden 

down  with  me  now?  I  am  sure  you  are  tired  after 
playing.  Or  would  you  like  some  more  tea?  " 

"  No,  I  would  rather  sit  down." 

"  Miss  Cunningham  and  I  are  going  to  find  out  what 
each  other  are  like,"  Truman  explained  to  Starling. 
u  She  says  you  gave  her  a  wrong  impression  of  me." 
He  set  straight  a  tumbled  piece  of  lace  on  her  gown 
as  he  spoke,  with  a  little  familiar  movement  that  made 
Madge  laugh. 

"  I  see  you  do  not  count,"  she  said. 

"  No,  he  really  does  n't,"  Starling  agreed.  "  Find 
Miss  Cunningham  a  seat  then,  True.  I  have  got  to 
arrange  the  next  set." 

"  Have  you  been  out  here  long?  "  True  asked  as  he 
led  the  way  to  a  rustic  bench.  "Wait  a  minute, — 
let  me  alter  the  cushions  for  you." 

"  About  a  week.  Thank  you  !  What  a  nice  nurse 
you  would  make  !  " 

"  Yes.  I  think  of  taking  it  up  in  my  leisure  moments. 
Do  you  want  one?  " 

"  For  myself?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  I  don't  know.  I  think  I  would  rather  try  you 
first,  —  in  your  leisure  moments  ! " 

"Very  well.  I  won't  forget.  You  haven't  told  me 
how  you  like  Africa." 

"  Very  much,  just  now,"  said  Margery,  thinking  of 
her  household  trials  and  not  of  the  implied  compli- 
ment to  him.  "  I  have  had  a  lot  of  bother  with  the 
servants,  but  I  hope  I  shall  get  straight  soon.  The 
house  is  in  such  a  hopeless  muddle." 

"Where  do  you  live?  Vine  Lodge?  I  am  just 
near,  at  the  Camp.  May  I  come  in  and  help  you 
sometimes.  I  know  how  to  put  up  curtains." 

"  Do  you  ?  I  should  be  only  too  thankful !  Mrs. 
Drysdale  is  coming  to-morrow  morning." 

"  I  can't  come  to-morrow  morning  —  we  are  going 


The  Story  of  Eden  27 

route  marching.     But  I  '11  turn  up  in  the  afternoon,  if 
I  may." 

"Will  you  really?  I  should  be  very  pleased.  Do 
you  —  do  you  know  my  brother?" 

"  Yes."  He  smiled  into  her  eyes  reassuringly.  "  He 
does  n't  mind  me.  Nobody  does.  I  '11  come  to-mor- 
row then." 

Margery  remembered  this  promise  when  she  was 
leaving  in  the  train  of  Mrs.  Drysdale,  and  she  turned 
to  Starling  half  apologetically.  "  Captain  Truman  says 
he  will  come  and  help  me  put  up  curtains,"  she  said. 

"  Oh,  will  he?"  said  Starling,  easily.  A  group  of 
people  who  were  leaving  were  standing  all  round  them 
laughing  and  talking.  Starling  turned  with  a  smile 
from  Beau  Livingston,  and  the  smile  deepened  as  she 
looked  at  Margery.  "That  is  all  right,"  she  said. 
"  Captain  Truman  is  a  splendid  carpenter.  You  will 
find  him  really  useful  —  we  all  give  him  jobs  to  do." 

The  momentary  doubt  in  Margery's  eyes  was  dis- 
pelled, and  she  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief.  At  home  she 
had  not  been  used  to  an  acquaintance  of  half  an  houi 
offering  to  put  up  her  window  curtains,  particularly  if 
he  were  a  captain  in  the  army.  But  here  it  seemed 
the  usual  thing.  She  looked  at  True's  face,  and 
thought  his  friendly  offer  of  his  services  a  pleasant 
change  from  conventionality.  And  he,  chancing  to 
look  at  her  at  the  moment,  continued  a  wordless  flirta- 
tion for  a  few  minutes  by  his  own  private  code  of 
glances.  Margery  would  have  found  his  gaze  embar- 
rassing if  she  had  been  in  a  mood  to  think  of  anything 
seriously.  But  the  sunlight  poured  down  its  generous 
gold  upon  the  open  drive  where  they  were  all  stand- 
ing ;  it  lay  in  warm  patches  on  Starling's  brown  head, 
and  her  own  white  gown ;  and  it  warmed  the  wide 
steps  and  the  doors  of  Friedenhof  above  them,  and 
Johnnie  Dodd,  who,  like  the  household  deity,  stood 
beaming  a  farewell  blessing  upon  his  guests ;  its  influ- 


28  The  Story  of  Eden 

ence  derided  a  serious  thought.  The  careless  lightness 
of  the  talk  and  laughter  round  her  seemed  to  float 
away  into  the  element  of  the  sunshine  like  thistledown, 
until  the  nonsense  and  the  brightness  of  the  moment 
were  the  only  things  of  importance,  and  nothing  was 
serious  in  the  whole  world. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Madge  to  herself,  "  if  it  is  always 
so  light?  I  seem  to  have  drifted  into  the  air  and  lost 
my  feet.  I  am  like  a  creature  sunning  itself,  and  only 
conscious  of  the  present  warmth.  But  how  lovely  to 
be  young,  and  to  live  in  the  sunshine  1 " 


CHAPTER  II 

"  Oh,  the  days  were  so  sunny,  the  skies  were  so  blue,  and  the  apples 
so  readily  fell  to  the  hand 

Of  the  beautiful  women  who  once  were  so  pure,  as  they  -wandered 
like  Eve  in  Bohemia's  land  I 

There  was  something  so  tender  and  true  in  the  voicg  of  the  Ser- 
pent who  glided  and  bask'd  under  leaves 

Concealing  the  fruit  that  a  minute  destroys,  and  a  lifetime  of 
misery  never  retrieves  I 

There  were  kisses  in  plenty,  and  jewels  galore,  and  deep-scented 
flowers  to  twine  in  the  hair 

Of  the  woman  who  drank  up  her  joy  at  a  draught, and  galloped 
on  Pleasure  through  Vanity  Fair" 

"  MAY  I  come  in?  "  said  a  voice. 

Madge  dropped  the  work  from  her  hands,  and  went 
to  welcome  her  visitor,  who  was  standing  on  the  stoep. 

"  Yes,  do  !  "  she  said.  "Lean  the  bicycle  up  against 
the  steps,  Miss  Harbord.  Now  sit  down  in  that  easy- 
chair  and  talk." 

Polly  Harbord  did  as  suggested,  and  sat  down,  look- 
ing round  her  with  bright  interested  eyes.  To  do  her 
justice  she  was  always  interested  in  her  surroundings, 
— a  lovable  quality  that  had  something  to  do  with  her 
popularity.  Margery  Cunningham  had  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  many  girls  in  the  past  three  weeks,  but 
of  them  all  she  inclined  mostly  to  Starling  Dodd  and  the 
girl  now  before  her.  Polly  was  always  ready  to  laugh, 
and  for  that  matter  to  gossip,  but  she  had  such  a  way  of 
combining  the  two  that  it  was  difficult  to  take  her  tales 
of  the  neighbourhood  seriously.  She  looked,  in  her 
smart  cycling  dress,  the  impersonation  of  youth  and 
enjoyment  and  good  temper.  The  sunshine  was  danc- 
ing in  her  eyes,  and  the  carelessness  of  Wynberg  on 
her  lips.  Yet  she  held  the  position  of  companion  to  a 


30  The  Story  of  Eden 

hypochondriac  elderly  lady  who  spoiled  her  enjoy- 
ments as  often  as  not,  and  would  have  embittered  the 
lives  of  nine  girls  out  of  ten.  Some  of  the  African 
sunshine  must  certainly  have  been  absorbed  into  Polly 
Harbord's  very  being. 

"  What  an  improvement  it  is,  having  this  room  to  sit 
in  !  "  she  said. 

"  I  had  a  hard  fight  to  get  leave.  Anthony  never 
used  it,  but  that  was  no  reason  to  his  mind  that  I 
should.  I  like  sitting  here  much  better  than  in  the 
dining-room,  —  that  is  so  depressing.  Oh,  if  you  could 
have  seen  the  house  the  first  day  that  Mrs.  Drysdale 
found  me  crying  in  the  dust  and  dirt !  It  looked 
hopeless  to  me  then,  and  even  now  I  can  hardly  under- 
stand how  I  have  got  it  as  straight  as  it  is." 

"  You  have  altered  things  wonderfully  —  yourself 
included,  if  you  don't  mind  my  saying  so." 

"  Not  a  bit !  "  said  Madge,  frankly.  "  I  don't  won- 
der you  think  so.  I  shall  never  forget  my  first  intro- 
duction to  you  all  —  I  had  been  so  miserable,  and  you 
all  seemed  so  happy  !  I  have  caught  the  contagion  a 
little  myself  now,  I  think." 

"  I  wonder  what  you  thought  of  us  ?  I  often  wonder 
how  we  strike  a  'tender-foot.'  " 

"  You  ought  to  say  an  Oitlander,  it 's  the  same  thing, 
is  n't  it?  Let  me  think  !  I  have  got  to  know  you  all 
so  well  since,  that  I  can't  remember.  My  head  was 
full  of  Mr.  Livingston  and  True  when  I  got  home,  and 
I  thought  a  good  deal  about  Starling.  I  hardly  spoke 
to  any  one  else." 

"  Is  n't  True  a  good  sort !  I  suppose  he  is  a  flirt, 
but  not  a  dangerous  one  —  like  Beau  for  instance." 

"  True  is  a  darling  !  But  I  don't  think  there  is  any 
harm  in  Mr.  Livingston,  is  there  ?  He  has  been  aw- 
fully kind  to  me  from  the  first." 

"You  haven't  known  him  very  long,  have  you,"  said 
Polly,  dryly.  "  But  I  don't  say  there  is  any  harm  in 


The  Story  of  Eden  31 

him,  exactly  — "  She  looked  at  Madge's  face,  and 
the  explanation  did  not  come.  Some  day  people 
would  be  less  reticent.  "  Let  her  find  out  for  her- 
self," Polly  thought  shrewdly. 

"How  is  Mrs.  Wrighton  this  morning?"  asked 
Madge,  as  she  went  on  stitching  at  the  covers  which 
she  was  making  for  the  cushions. 

"  Better.  She  is  always  better  on  Mondays,  because 
Dr.  Langdon  has  to  go  into  Cape  Town  to  the  Hospi- 
tal that  day,  and  she  knows  that  she  can't  send  for 
him.  I  often  think  what  a  nice  scandal  I  could  make 
if  I  chose  !  He  goes  up  to  her  own  room  and  stays 
there  any  amount  of  time  with  no  one  else  by  —  I'm 
supposed  to  go  up  too  to  take  his  instructions,  but  I 
know  I  'm  not  wanted,  and  I  've  learned  to  hunt  out 
former  prescriptions  downstairs  until  five  minutes  be- 
fore he  leaves." 

Madge  put  down  the  cushion  hastily,  and  drew  back. 
"  I  don't  think  you  ought  to  say  that  sort  of  thing  !  " 
she  said,  flushing  with  the  effort,  and  speaking  very 
gently.  "  It  is  horrid  !  " 

"Well,  I  dorft  say  it  —  that  is  just  the  point.  I 
could  set  half  Wynberg  by  the  ears  with  the  things  I 
hear  and  practically  know  to  be  true.  But  what 's  the 
good  ?  The  women  are  all  alike  out  here,  and  the  men 
get  their  diversions  in  Cape  Town." 

"  Madge  ! "  called  a  querulous  voice  from  some- 
where in  the  back  regions  of  the  house.  "  Madge  !  — 
why  can't  you  hear  me  ?  I  want  you  !  " 

"  Oh,  run  along,  for  goodness*  sake,  or  he  '11  be  in  a 
fever ! "  said  Polly,  with  a  laugh  that  was  perfectly 
undisturbed.  "  Give  him  my  love,  and  tell  him  not  to 
be  stuffy  !  —  that 's  slang  for  bad  temper." 

For  once  Madge  was  glad  of  her  brother's  summons, 
though  it  heralded  a  reprimand  for  sins  of  omission 
and  commission,  of  which  she  felt  herself  guiltles.s. 
He  further  garnished  the  interview,  —  whose  real  ob- 


32  The  Story  of  Eden 

ject  was  a  mislaid  article  of  clothing,  for  which  Madge 
did  not  feel  herself  responsible,  —  by  a  comment  upon 
the  bicycle  leaning  against  the  steps  of  the  stoep 
which  he  could  see  from  his  laboratory  windows,  and 
several  disagreeable  remarks  as  to  the  number  of  visi- 
tors who  came  to  the  house  and  increased  the  house- 
keeping bills.  It  was  his  money,  and  she  seemed  to 
think  — 

Madge  threw  her  chin  up.  "It  is  Miss  Harbord. 
But  I  have  not  given  her  anything  to  eat  or  drink,  so 
that  is  sixpence  saved,"  she  said.  "  I  rarely  do  when 
people  drop  in  like  this." 

By  the  time  she  got  back  to  the  morning-room, 
Polly  had  strolled  out  into  the  garden  and  had  taken 
her  bicycle  preparatory  to  leaving.  "  I  must  be  get- 
ting back,"  she  said,  "  or  Mrs.Wrighton  will  want  me. 
It  is  a  curious  thing  that  I  may  sit  for  hours  in  the 
house,  and  she  never  requires  my  presence  at  all,  but  if 
I  go  out  for  half  an  hour,  she  always  rings  the  bell,  and 
is  injured  that  the  servant  cannot  find  me." 

She  rode  off  in  the  sunshine,  and  Madge  wandered 
down  into  the  vineyard,  instead  of  returning  to  the 
house,  and  sat  down  in  the  rustic  arbour  to  eat  grapes. 
It  was  brilliantly  hot  this  March  day,  though  the  summer 
was  on  the  wane,  and  she  sunned  herself  as  joyously  as 
a  cat.  Before  her  stretched  the  rows  of  bobbley  round 
vines  weighted  to  the  warm  dry  earth  with  golden- 
green  grapes ;  they  touched  the  limit  of  the  ground 
belonging  to  Vine  Lodge,  and  were  shut  in  by  a  high 
hedge  of  hackia.  On  the  other  side  of  the  hedge 
was  a  little  private  road  leading  up  to  the  Camp ;  it 
was  not  supposed  to  be  used  by  ordinary  foot-passen- 
gers, but  the  gates  of  Vine  Lodge,  which  would  have 
shut  it  off  from  the  more  public  highway,  were  always 
open,  and  whoever  chose  to  go  that  way  might  do  so. 
Madge  got  up  from  her  seat  in  the  arbour  after  a  while, 
and  pushed  her  way  through  a  gap  in  the  hedge  into 


The  Story  of  Eden  33 

this  lane.  On  the  other  side  of  the  lane  was  another 
vineyard  belonging  to  a  neighbour,  and  at  the  bottom  of 
the  hill  —  for  the  vines  grew  on  a  slope  —  was  a  small 
stream.  There  were  arum  lilies  growing  down  by  that 
stream,  as  Madge  had  discovered.  They  grew  wild  in 
the  swampy  ground  which  they  liked,  and  the  Natives 
called  them  pig-lilies,  and  threw  them  literally  as  pearls 
before  the  swine,  who  ate  their  roots.  It  would  be 
trespassing,  but  they  were  of  no  value,  and  Madge 
liked  them  in  vases  about  the  drawing-room ;  should 
she  go  across  the  vine-clad  hillside  and  steal  the 
arums?  A  bugle  rang  out  sweetly  across  the  sunny 
land,  and  she  hesitated.  It  was  the  dishing-up  call : 

"  Officers'  wives  get  puddings  and  pies, 
And  soldiers'  wives  get  skilly  I  " 

surely  there  would  be  time  before  luncheon  was  on  the 
table,  and  Anthony  came  back  from  his  beetles,  in  a 
rage,  to  eat  it. 

As  she  stood  there  hesitating,  she  heard  the  sound 
of  horses'  hoofs,  and  two  horsemen  riding  down  the 
lane  caused  her  to  back  into  her  own  domains.  She 
stood  in  the  gap  in  the  hedge  and  watched  them. 
One  was  a  man  she  knew  slightly  —  a  certain  Captain 
Barton,  "Teddy  Barton,  of  the  Gunners,"  said  Wyn- 
berg.  Madge  nodded  to  him,  and  he  lifted  his  cap 
and  called  out  a  salutation.  The  other  man  she  did 
not  know  —  and  yet  she  did.  As  she  looked  from 
Barton  to  his  companion,  who  was  riding  on  the  off 
side,  she  remembered  her  first  introduction  to  Wyn- 
berg  society,  and  the  man  who  had  played  tennis  with 
Starling  against  her  and  Livingston.  She  had  not  been 
introduced  to  him  that  day,  though  while  they  had  all 
talked  together  he  had  made  several  remarks  which 
she  had  answered  in  the  general  conversation ;  she  had 
never  met  him  since,  and  had  not  asked  who  he  was 
in  the  first  instance,  because  she  knew  she  thought  him 


34  The  Story  of  Eden 

very  handsome,  and  he  had  looked  at  her,  and  their 
eyes  had  met ;  at  any  rate,  her  reasons  were  inexplica- 
bly feminine.  In  the  excitement  of  seeing  more  and 
more  new  people  during  the  past  three  weeks,  the  in- 
cident had  passed  from  her  mind.  She  retained  her 
impressions  of  Beau  Livingston  and  True,  because  she 
met  them,  time  after  time,  and  improved  their  ac- 
quaintance. This  man,  riding  with  Teddy  Barton,  she 
had  never  seen  again  until  now.  He  turned  in  his 
saddle  and  looked  back  at  her,  past  Barton.  Madge 
knew  it,  but  she  did  not  look  at  him  until  he  had 
passed.  Then  she  cast  a  glance  searching  enough  at 
his  big  figure  in  its  riding  dress,  the  fair  hair  shaved 
closely  to  the  thick  tanned  neck,  and  at  every  detail  a 
woman's  eye  could  note. 

"  I  will  ask  Starling  who  he  is,"  she  thought.  "  He 
is  very  nice,  and  his  clothes  are  all  right."  Then  she 
blushed  furiously,  and  laughed  at  herself,  and  the  sun- 
shine laughed  too,  and  danced  about  her  hair,  until  it 
looked  as  if  a  little  of  its  priceless  gold  had  got  en- 
tangled in  a  mesh  of  spider's  webbing. 

The  man  in  question  had  turned  to  Teddy  Barton  as 
soon  as  they  were  out  of  hearing. 

"  Is  n't  that  Cunningham's  house  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Yes,  and  that 's  Cunningham's  sister,"  said  Barton, 
smoothing  his  moustache.  "  That 's  their  vineyard  to 
our  left  over  the  hedge.  It 's  the  best  about  here  — 
beats  the  Drysdales'  hollow." 

"I  wonder  Cunningham  leaves  that  gap  in  the 
hedge,"  remarked  Barton's  companion,  "Any  one 
might  get  in  and  steal  his  —  grapes." 

"  I  dare  say  the  Kaffirs  will,  but  as  long  as  Cunning- 
ham does  n't  know  of  it,  it  won't  matter,"  said  Barton, 
carelessly.  He  was  thinking  more  of  the  white  gown 
by  the  gap  in  the  hedge,  than  of  the  Professor's  grapes. 
Perhaps  his  companion  was  also.  But  he  only  smiled, 
as  if  he  saw  a  good  joke  that  he  could  not  share. 


The  Story  of  Eden  35 

There  was  a  Field  Day,  on  the  morrow  after  Polly 
Harbord's  flying  visit  to  Madge,  and  Starling  sent 
round  a  note  to  Vine  Lodge  in  the  morning  to  say 
that  she  was  going  to  drive  out  to  the  Flats  and  see  if 
she  could  catch  sight  of  the  manoeuvres;  she  would 
call  for  Madge,  if  she  liked  to  go.  Madge  did  like,  and 
when  Starling  came  she  found  her  ready  —  as,  indeed, 
she  would  have  been  for  any  sort  of  entertainment. 

"  I  have  promised  to  pick  up  Mr.  Livingston,  if  I 
see  him  on  the  road,"  she  said.  "That  is  why  I 
brought  the  spider  and  not  the  dog  cart.  It  is  not  so 
nice,  but  he  won't  interfere  with  us  much,  as  we  sit  at 
the  back." 

"  Oh,  I  am  very  glad  you  did,"  said  Madge,  gener- 
ously. "  I  like  him,  you  know.  How  amusing  he  is  ! " 

"  Yes,  and  so  very  much  at  anybody's  disposal.  He 
is  a  great  convenience  if  one  wants  an  escort  in  a 
hurry.  One  can  be  quite  sure  that  he  will  never  have 
a  business  engagement  to  prevent  him,  at  any  rate." 

"  Who  is  he?     He  never  does  anything  !  " 

"  No.  He  is  well  off,  I  suppose.  He  says  that  he 
is  rich  enough  to  be  idle,  but  not  to  work.  The  one 
only  requires  credit,  and  the  other  capital.  When  he 
first  came  out  here,  on  account  of  his  health,  he  was 
staying  at  Government  House,  and  he  liked  Africa  so 
well  that  he  said  he  felt  he  must  be  under  a  delusion, 
and  he  should  stay  to  find  out  how  soon  it  became 
detestable.  That  is  two  years  ago." 

"  He  does  not  dislike  it  yet,  then  ! " 

"  No.  He  went  to  Groot  Schuur  for  a  time,  because 
he  knows  Mr.  Rhodes,  and  Groot  Schuur  is  a  kind  of 
private  hotel  for  all  Mr.  Rhodes'  friends.  The  only 
thing  he  will  not  do  is  to  go  there  and  entertain  them 
himself.  Mr.  Livingston  has  been  Home  twice  —  but 
he  always  comes  back." 

"  I  don't  wonder  !  I  think  this  is  a  delightful  place. 
I  feel  as  if  there  could  n't  be  any  very  great  trouble 


36  The  Story  of  Eden 

here  —  at  all  events  for  long.  At  least  not  trouble  of 
one's  own  making.  Every  one  seems  to  live  just  to 
enjoy  themselves  !  " 

"  How  about  the  men  in  business?  " 

"  Yes,  they  work,  of  course  —  but  they  enjoy  them- 
selves, too,  don't  they?  And  then  so  many  of  them 
round  here  have  made  their  money  and  retired." 

"It  does  seem  rather  Arcadian  —  on  the  surface," 
Starling  agreed.  "  And  then,  you  see,  it  is  all  new  to 
you." 

"  I  hope  it  won't  ever  lose  its  niceness.  I  can't 
fancy  any  one  doing  anything  wicked  here,  —  I  can't 
fancy  them  serious  enough  !  That  was  what  struck  me 
that  first  day.  Every  one  was  so  light-hearted, — just 
as  if  it  were  the  sunshine  affecting  them.  Oh,  Starling, 
I  meant  to  ask  you  —  who  was  that  man  who  played 
tennis  with  you  that  afternoon?" 

"  I  don't  remember.    I  thought  I  played  with  True  ?  " 

"  No,  he  had  gone  back  to  the  house  to  have  tea. 
The  man  I  mean  is  much  older  than  Captain  Truman, 
and  big  and  fair.  I  have  never  met  him  since,  but  I 
saw  him  riding  yesterday  morning." 

"Oh,  I  remember  now,  of  course.  It  was  Major 
Vibart  —  the  Duke's  Major.  He  has  been  out  for  a 
fortnight's  shooting,  I  think.  I  haven't  seen  him 
myself  for  some  time."  Starling  paused,  and  added 
slowly,  "  He  isn't  a  very  reputable  character." 

"  Oh ! "  said  Madge.  She  did  not  in  the  least 
understand  the  last  clause,  but  she  translated  it  as 
meaning  that  Major  Vibart  was  fast,  and  she  thought 
that  he  had  looked  rather  like  that,  and  that  it  made 
him  none  the  less  interesting.  The  word  "  fast "  con- 
veys one  thing  to  the  ignorance  of  twenty  —  quite 
another  to  the  experience  of  ten  years  later.  It  is  not 
a  pretty  word  rightly  translated.  It  leads  to  gout  and 
crow's-feet  rather  than  Byronic  repentance. 

"  I  don't  exactly  know  why  I  should  say  that  either," 


The  Story  of  Eden  37 

said  Starling,  in  her  soft  little  voice,  for  she  cooed  like 
a  wood-pigeon.  "  He  has  never  been  anything  but 
most  pleasant  to  me,  nor  have  I  ever  known  him  do 
anything  ungentlemanly.  It  is  only  his  reputation. 
But  I  suppose  he  must  have  acquired  that  somehow." 

"  I  daresay  it  is  because  he  is  so  handsome," 
thought  Madge,  sensibly.  "  The  other  men  are  jealous, 
or  else  the  women  think  he  must  be  bad  because  ^e 
really  is  unusually  good  to  look  at.  " 

"  There  is  Mr.  Livingston  !  "  said  Starling,  pointing 
at  a  cool  grey  figure  sauntering  along  the  road  before 
them.  They  were  driving  in  the  direction  of  Rondes- 
bosch,  along  a  road  like  the  aisle  of  a  cathedral. 
Stem  within  stem  stood  the  firs,  betraying  by  their 
symmetrical  lines  that  Man  planted  them,  and  not 
Nature,  whose  imagination  never  measures  an  equal 
space  between  tree  and  tree.  The  branches  almost 
met  overhead,  and  shut  out  the  hot  blue  sky,  except 
for  the  brilliant  triangles  and  lozenges  of  colour  that 
peeped  through.  Beau  Livingston  was  standing  in  the 
shade  as  they  drew  up,  gazing  through  the  narrow  belt 
of  trees  to  the  open  ground  beyond,  through  his  field- 
glasses. 

"  I  have  spotted  the  enemy  !  "  he  said  ;  "  but  not  the 
Duke's.  The  Wessex  are  the  enemy  to-day.  How  do 
you  do,  Miss  Cunningham?  And  how  are  you  getting 
on  under  your  own  vine-and-fig-tree-lodge  roof?  Shall 
I  sit  in  front,  Starling  ?  " 

"  Please —  and  tell  John  where  to  go.  I  want  to 
see  as  much  of  it  as  possible." 

"Then  I  think  we  will  drive  on  about  a  hundred 
yards,  and  leave  the  trap  in  the  road  while  we  recon- 
noitre, if  you  don't  mind."  He  gave  his  directions  to 
the  black  boy  who  was  driving,  and  then  turned  round 
and  sat  with  his  arm  over  the  back  of  the  seat  to  look 
at  the  two  bright  faces  behind  him. 

"  So  you  like  Wynberg !  "  he  said  quietly  to  Madge. 


38  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  I  knew  you  would.  It  is  a  change  from  your  English 
country  town,  isn't  it?" 

"  How  do  you  know  that  I  lived  in  an  English  coun- 
try town?" 

"  Pf !  I  know  all  your  back  history.  You  have  been 
telling  it  to  me  ever  since  I  met  you.  You  lived  in  a 
country  town  with  occasional  visits  to  London  which  you 
very  much  enjoyed,  and  thought  very  delightful.  And 
the  only  animals  of  the  opposite  sex  whom  you  encoun- 
tered were  leggy  boys,  and  old  men  who  ought  to  have 
known  better." 

"  Oh,  do  go  on  ! "  Madge  said,  as  well  as  she  could 
for  laughing.  "  It  is  all  quite  true  ! " 

"  Of  course  it  is  quite  true  !  I  particularly  appre- 
ciate the  fact  that  you  know  what  I  mean  when  I  say 
they  ought  to  have  known  better.  Did  they  all  come 
to  the  point  ?  " 

"  No,  of  course  not.  I  mean  I  don't  know  what  you 
mean." 

"  I  do  like  winter  sunsets  !  "  said  Beau,  with  a  soft 
sigh  of  enjoyment.  "To  proceed  —  was  your  father  a 
doctor,  by  the  way?  " 

"Yes,  but  he  died  many  years  ago.  I  am  an 
orphan." 

"  I  am  perfectly  aware  of  that  —  especially  upon  the 
mother's  side." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  If  you  had  had  a  mother  she  would  have  told  you 
—  many  things.  As  it  is,  you  are  blissfully  unwise. 
Where  was  I?  Oh,  at  your  orphanage.  The  world 
has  not  been  a  bad  foster-mother  to  you,  on  the  whole, 
has  it?" 

"  Everybody  has  been  very  kind  —  particularly  when 
they  were  not  my  relations,"  said  Madge,  thoughtfully. 

"  Exactly.  How  like  relations  !  They  are  things  I 
never  have  myself.  Miss  Cunningham,  I  have  told  you 
your  past.  You  alone  can  tell  your  present  —  which  is, 


The  Story  of  Eden  39 

after  all,  the  only  thing  that  matters  —  in  such  perfect 
weather." 

"  I  think  I  should  like  to  get  out  here,"  said  Star- 
ling, patiently.  "  I  am  so  afraid  that  if  we  don't  you 
will  go  on  talking  !  " 

John  had  pulled  up  in  the  curve  of  the  road.  Be- 
yond them  the  trees  ran  out  like  a  thin  streamer  which 
ended  on  open  ground.  Across  the  broken  country,  a 
line  of  dust-coloured  figures  crept  here  and  there  — 
sometimes  revolving  itself  into  a  string  of  pygmies  with 
Liliputian  muskets  in  their  hands,  as  the  men  showed 
up  against  the  skyline.  In  a  hollow  not  twenty  yards 
away  was  a  group  of  Staff  officers  —  whether  the  attack- 
ing force  or  the  enemy,  Livingston  said  he  could  not 
tell.  The  men  sat  motionless  in  their  saddles  in  the 
shade  of  a  clump  of  trees ;  every  now  and  then  a  horse 
grew  impatient,  and  was  reined  back  and  turned 
round,  jingling  his  bridle.  Then  the  sunshine  flashed 
on  the  steel  and  the  gold,  or  caught  the  glitter  of  lace 
and  the  hilt  of  a  sword.  Otherwise  it  had  the  arrested 
motion  of  a  photographic  scene. 

"  How  large  it  all  is  !  Those  men  look  like  dolls  !  " 
Madge  said,  as  they  made  their  way  through  the  plan- 
tation, and  stood  on  the  outskirts  overlooking  the  Staff 
officers  in  the  hollow. 

"  That  is  Wyniard  of  the  R.  A.  M.  C.  on  the  white 
horse,"  said  Livingston.  "  He  has  seen  us,  and  is 
coming  out." 

A  big  man  in  khaki  was  making  his  way  towards 
them.  He  drew  up  and  saluted,  and  Livingston  went 
up  to  him  and  stood  at  his  bridle  rein. 

"  Whatever  fat  dray-horse  have  you  got  onto, 
Wyniard  ! "  he  said  in  his  clear  voice.  "  I  never  saw 
such  a  beast !  He  looks  like  a  beer-barrel  finished  off 
with  a  fiddle  for  a  head." 

"  He  is  rather  a  crank.  Makes  a  good  show  though 
to  any  one  who  doesn't  know.  He  belongs  to  the 


40  The  Story  of  Eden 

Mounted  Infantry,  really.  That's  the  way  Govern- 
ment serves  us.  How  are  you,  Miss  Dodd?" 

"  Very  dissatisfied  that  I  can't  see  more  of  the 
battle  at  present.  What  are  you  all  doing?" 

"  Waiting  for  the  enemy.  They  're  hiding  below 
that  hill  we  think.  There  go  our  men  ! " 

He  turned  in  his  saddle  at  the  sound  of  dropping 
shots.  The  figures  on  the  skyline  ran  forward,  halted, 
fired,  and  ran  again. 

"  In  full  sight  and  range  !  "  remarked  Livingston. 
"  What  are  they  thinking  of,  Wyniard  ?  They  must  be 
just  as  good  a  mark  for  the  Wessex,  as  they  are  for  us  ! " 

"  No,  —  they  have  the  trees  behind  them  from  the 
enemy's  ground.  But  that  open  order  might  have 
been  better  done.  Vibart  must  have  been  bouncing 
in  his  saddle  !  There,  he  is  sending  some  one  out  to 
ask  what  they  are  playing  at." 

"  Is  Jack  in  Command  ?  I  have  n't  seen  him  since 
he  came  home.  Did  he  have  good  sport?  " 

"  I  have  n't  heard."  He  slipped  out  of  the  saddle 
and  stood  beside  the  great  grey  horse.  "  By  Jove  !  I 
am  hot !  I  don't  suppose  there  will  be  any  casualties 
for  me  to  attend  to,  so  I  '11  take  it  easy  for  a  few 
minutes." 

He  hitched  his  horse  up  to  a  tree  out  of  sight  of  the 
Staff,  and  threw  himself  on  the  ground  beside  Starling. 

"  When  it  comes  to  war,  we  shall  see  the  value  of 
field  days,"  he  said.  "  We  have  made  about  ten  mis- 
takes this  morning  already,  and  we  shall  make  exactly 
the  same  next  time.  A  real  enemy  could  have  crum- 
pled us  up." 

"  Is  the  General  there  ?  " 

"  One  of  'em  is,  and  Vibart  and  Scott  Murray,  and 
two  or  three  A.  D.  C.'s,  to  say  nothing  of  Me.  Oh,  the 
Staff  is  beautifully  efficient ! " 

"  I  wonder  if  we  should  see  more  round  the  other 
side  ?  We  are  so  far  off  here.  I  want  to  get  into  the 
thick  of  it." 


The  Story  of  Eden  41 

"  There  is  n't  much  to  get  into,  but  you  might  try 
to  drive  round  that  hill.  Will  your  pony  stand  the 
firing?" 

"  Oh,  yes.  Come  along,  Madge,  I  am  going  into  the 
battle.  There  go  the  Staff !  " 

Madge  turned  and  looked  after  them  as  they  rode 
away  in  the  sun.  She  had  recognised  Major  Vibart. 

"  We  must  get  round  quickly  and  catch  them  up,  if 
we  are  to  see  anything,"  said  Livingston,  as  he  helped 
the  two  girls  into  the  spider  again.  "  They  have  got 
a  good  start.  Shall  I  take  the  reins,  Starling?  " 

"  Yes,  if  you  like.  But  don't  turn  us  into  the  road, 
and  remember  that  Lollo  may  shy  at  the  firing,  though 
I  don't  think  he  will." 

Livingston  changed  places  with  the  Kaffir  boy,  and 
the  trap  flew.  It  swung  from  side  to  side  as  the  pony 
tore  down  the  road,  and  Madge  laughed  with  excite- 
ment as  they  cut  dangerously  short  to  their  left,  and 
skirting  the  open  land,  raced  the  Staff  which  they  could 
still  see  galloping  across  the  burnt  grass.  It  was  like 
flying  under  a  bright  blue  sky  with  the  black  firs  and 
then  the  small  white  houses  flashing  past  in  procession 
through  their  headlong  race.  The  pony  came  to  a 
standstill,  panting,  in  a  narrow  road  at  the  end  of 
which  Livingston  had  caught  sight  of  a  small  detach- 
ment, though  whether  it  were  the  enemy  or  not  he 
could  not  say.  Starling  panted  a  little  too,  when  she 
found  herself  safe. 

"  You  are  so  reckless  !  "  she  said  to  Livingston,  in- 
dignantly. "If  you  don't  value  your  own  life,  you 
might  think  of  ours.  I  hope  you  were  not  very  fright- 
ened, Madge?  " 

"  I  liked  it,"  Madge  confessed.  Her  eyes  were 
shining  and  dilated,  and  the  wind  had  tossed  her 
misty  hair  about  her  face.  "  I  liked  the  excitement 
—  and  I  never  thought  of  the  danger  ! " 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Livingston,  coolly.     "  It  would 


42  The  Story  of  Eden 

spoil  the  enjoyment  if  one  were  always  looking  on  the 
reverse  side  of  the  picture.  Besides,  as  long  as  the 
excitement  lasts,  the  danger  does  not  matter.  But 
you  were  really  quite  safe,  Starling  ! " 

"  Safety  seems  to  lie  in  the  opinion  of  the  subject ! " 
retorted  Starling,  dryly. 

"  Most  things  exist  only  in  our  opinion  of  them. 
Hush  !  This  must  be  the  end  of  the  entertainment, 
for  the  General  is  going  to  speak."  He  backed  Lollo 
a  little,  and  they  sat  in  the  shade  and  listened.  They 
could  hear  the  General's  voice,  but  his  words  were 
frequently  lost  as  he  had  his  back  to  them. 

"Some  one  is  getting  a  wigging,"  said  Livingston, 
with  keen  enjoyment.  "  Look  at  Forrester's  face ! 
He  has  just  been  called  out  for  special  criticism.  I 
should  n't  wonder  if  he  led  that  last  attack." 

"  Can  they  see  us  from  here?  "  whispered  Madge. 

"  Not  to  matter.  Besides  we  have  a  perfect  right  to 
be  in  the  public  road.  By  Jove  !  they  are  coming  this 
way  !  " 

It  was  too  late  to  drive  on  in  front,  so  they  sat  there 
helplessly,  while  the  Staff  rode  past,  and  then  the  Duke's 
and  the  Wessex.  Starling  leaned  back  with  some 
annoyance  in  her  face  as.  one  man  after  another  saluted 
her,  but  Madge  was  trying  not  to  laugh.  She  had  met 
and  played  tennis  with  several  of  the  men  riding  past 
her  soberly  in  khaki,  but  had  never  seen  them  in 
uniform  before,  and  her  easily  roused  amusement 
threatened  to  bubble  over. 

"  How  funny  and  sweet  True  looks  in  his  helmet," 
she  thought,  glancing  along  the  line.  Their  eyes  met, 
and  he  smiled  as  he  raised  his  hand,  while  Madge 
nodded  gaily.  Then  her  eyes  danced  back  along  the 
line,  and  she  caught  the  glance  of  the  man  at  that 
moment  passing  the  trap.  It  was  Vibart.  Madge 
tried  to  look  away,  horrified  to  find  that  merely  to 
meet  his  eyes  now  made  her  blush  with  more  than 
her  usual  facility. 


The  Story  of  Eden  43 

"  I  wish  I  had  never  looked  away  from  True,"  she 
thought.  "  He  is  so  safe.  What  must  Major  Vibart 
think  of  me  ?  That  I  am  an  idiotic  little  schoolgirl,  if 
he  recognises  me  at  all,  I  suppose." 

"  Old  Jack  looks  a  fine  figure  in  uniform,"  remarked 
Livingston,  as  he  drove  gently  homewards  in  the  wake 
of  the  soldiers.  "You  know  Vibart,  Miss  Cunning- 
ham?" 

"No  —  not  exactly.  I  mean  I  met  him  that  first 
day  I  met  you,  but  I  've  never  spoken  to  him  directly." 

"  Ah, —  I  see  !  "  Livingston's  eyes  sparkled.  "  You 
will  like  him.  He  is  a  friend  of  mine,  and  a  charming 
fellow." 

Starling  looked  at  Madge,  and  then  at  Livingston. 
"  It  is  a  great  misfortune  that  his  wife  should  be  so 
afflicted"  she  said  in  a  tone  impossible  to  translate. 

"My  dear  Starling,  you  speak  rather  as  if  Vibart 
were  the  affliction.  You  really  ought  to  explain  a 
little  further,  or  you  will  leave  Miss  Cunningham  under 
a  mistaken  impression.  Vibart's  wife  is  in  an  asylum, 
Miss  Cunningham.  She  is  not  despaired  of  by  the 
doctors,  but  there  does  not  seem  much  chance  of  her 
getting  any  better.  It  is  rarely  mentioned  now,  and 
Jack  gets  the  reputation  of  being  an  improper  bachelor 
who  won't  marry  because  of  Don  Juan  tendencies.  In 
reality,  he  is  that  most  unenviable  thing,  a  husband 
with  no  Available  wife." 

"  Oh,  poor  fellow  !  "  Madge  said  involuntarily.  Liv- 
ingston smiled.  Starling  looked  at  him  again,  but  said 
nothing. 

They  were  nearing  Vine  Lodge,  trotting  down  the 
very  road  into  which  its  never  closed  gates  opened,  and 
Madge's  face  clouded  ominously  as  she  sighted  her 
own  home.  She  had  almost  forgotten  her  first  week 
in  Africa  through  which  she  had  cried  her  way  to  Mrs. 
Drysdale's  acquaintance,  except  when  she  was  reminded 
of  it  by  the  atmosphere  of  Vine  Lodge.  She  was 


44  The  Story  of  Eden 

pluckily  doing  her  best  to  make  her  brother's  house- 
hold move  on  oiled  wheels,  but  she  looked  to  the  out- 
side world  for  distraction  and  relief  from  his  irascible 
temper. 

"  Has  your  brother  got  you  a  pony  yet  ?  "  said  Liv- 
ingston, as  they  set  her  down  at  the  gate,  and  he  shook 
hands  with  her. 

"  No,  but  he  really  said  something  about  my  having 
one."  (What  the  Professor  had  really  said  was,  "  As 
you  are  learning,  I  suppose  you  ought  to  have  a  horse 
of  your  own.  It  was  n't  worth  while  when  you  would 
only  have  bumped  about  on  the  saddle  and  looked  a 
fool  —  for  I  certainly  was  not  going  to  take  you  out 
with  me  at  that  stage  !  However,  I  don't  care  to  have 
you  always  sponging  on  the  Dodds,  so  I  '11  think  about 
it.")  "  How  good  of  you  it  was  to  speak  about  it  to 
him  ! " 

"  Pf !  a  little  plain  speaking  did  him  no  harm.  I  am 
not  afraid  of  Cunningham,  or  any  other  beetle-hunter  ! 
I  wish  he  would  take  to  hunting  fleas,  by  the  way ;  he 
should  have  the  first  pick  of  all  my  clean  shirts.  Those 
Malays  have  a  fine  assortment.  Oh,  Miss  Cunning- 
ham, stop  a  minute  !  Here  's  Vibart !  " 

Margery  paused  and  turned  round  to  see  a  horse 
stopping  beside  the  spider,  and  Major  Vibart  shaking 
hands  with  Starling.  He  was  still  in  uniform,  as  her 
shy  eyes  testified.  She  hardly  liked  to  look  up  as 
Livingston  introduced  them  and  the  Major  saluted. 

"  How  much  nicer  that  is  than  when  men  lift  their 
hats,"  she  thought.  "  I  feel  like  the  Queen." 

"  I  have  just  got  rid  of  the  General,  and  am  going 
to  my  own  place  to  change,"  said  the  Major.  "  I  am 
afraid  it  was  a  poor  show  this  morning,  Miss  Dodd." 

"  Oh,  we  were  very  much  entertained  !  "  said  Star- 
ling, demurely. 

"I  am  afraid  you  were — how  unkind  you  can  be 
sometimes  1  I  saw  you  flying  along  the  road  in  hot 


The  Story  of  Eden  45 

pursuit  of  the  enemy.  I  think  you  would  make  most 
efficient  scouts." 

"  That  was  Mr.  Livingston's  fault.  I  believe  he 
meant  to  kill  us.  It  was  a  marvel  that  we  didn't 
go  over." 

"Miss  Dodd  is  a  coward,"  said  Livingston,  in  his 
peculiar,  clear  voice.  "  Miss  Cunningham  is  much 
braver.  She  likes  the  excitement,  and  she  does  not 
think  of  the  danger." 

The  two  men  laughed  in  concert,  and  Margery  won- 
dered what  she  had  said  to  amuse  them.  "  Well/'  she 
began,  and  looked  up  under  her  lashes  at  Vibart  and 
pouted. 

"  It  is  n't  true,  is  it,  Miss  Cunningham  ?  You  were 
just  as  frightened  as  anybody." 

"  I  was  n't  frightened  until  the  thing  was  done. 
Then,  when  Lollo  stood  still,  I  had  time  to  think,  and 
—  we  did  come  rather  fast !  " 

"  What  a  shocking  confession  ! "  Livingston  said, 
lightly.  "  That  I  should  live  to  be  described  as  fast ! 
Vibart,  my  dear  fellow,  do  I  dine  with  you  to-night?" 

"  I  hope  so.     You  have  been  pledged  for  some  days." 

"Oh,  is  it  guest-night?"  said  Margery,  eagerly.  "I 
am  so  glad  !  Then  I  shall  hear  the  band." 

"  Can  you  hear  it  at  Vine  Lodge?  "  Vibart  asked. 

"  Yes,  if  I  go  out  on  the  stoep.  My  brother  goes  to 
sleep  after  dinner,  and  I  am  so  glad  when  the  band 
plays.  It  is  so  dull  to  sit  and  watch  a  person  getting 
through  all  the  stages  of  going  to  sleep  !  " 

Both  men  looked  at  her  in  open  amusement.  "  Why 
did  n't  you  send  for  me  ? "  said  Livingston,  and  his 
eyes  danced.  "  I  would  have  brought  my  fancy-work 
and  sat  with  you." 

"  But  oh ! "  said  Margery,  laughing,  "  what  would 
happen  if  Anthony  woke  up  !  " 

"  Let  him  wake  up  !  What  is  a  garden  for?  What  a 
shrubbery?  Before  I  would  be  caught  the  Professor 


46  The  Story  of  Eden 

would  have  to  be  keener  than  he  is  on  a  spider  !  —  but 
we  are  putting  most  immoral  ideas  into  your  head,  and 
I  perceive  that  Starling  is  horrified." 

"  Not  at  all —  I  am  resigned.  I  am  only  wondering 
if  you  will  have  ceased  talking  nonsense  in  time  to  let 
me  get  home  to  luncheon." 

"After  that,"  said  Vibart,  lightly,  "there  remains 
nothing  for  us  to  do  but  take  our  leave.  Good-bye, 
Miss  Cunningham ;  "  he  walked  his  horse  round  the 
spider  to  Madge,  where  she  stood  by  the  gate.  "  I 
would  rather  say,  Au  revoir,"  he  added  in  a  lower  tone. 

Madge  put  her  hand  into  his,  laughed  nervously  to 
herself  over  the  pressure  it  received,  and  ran  down  the 
drive.  % 

"  Really,"  Livingston  said,  as  he  settled  himself  again 
in  the  spider,  "Cunningham  ought  not  to  leave  his 
sister  about  loose  like  this.  If  I  were  he,  a  sense  of 
my  responsibility  would  keep  me  painfully  awake  — 
even  after  dinner." 

"  The  Professor  probably  thinks  that  his  own  grounds 
should  be  safe  enough  for  his  household,"  said  Starling, 
with  the  soft  petulance  in  her  voice  of  an  angry  wood- 
pigeon.  "  If  you  will  consider  a  moment  I  think  you 
will  see  that  it  is  so." 

"  But  there  is  always  the  open  gate,"  said  Living- 
ston, with  a  wave  of  his  hand  towards  the  proof  of  his 
words. 

"  And  the  gap  in  the  hedge,"  Vibart  added  to  him- 
self as  he  rode  away. 

Starling  turned  her  face  from  her  companion  and  did 
not  continue  the  conversation.  Livingston  had  taken 
Margery's  empty  seat  beside  her,  and  after  two  minutes 
of  the  silence,  the  red  road,  and  the  green  hedges,  he 
spoke. 

"Is  this  dignified  ignoring  of  my  existence  inten- 
tional, Starling?" 

"  Not  particularly.     I  was  thinking." 


The  Story  of  Eden  47 

"That  I  am  a  most  annoying  person?" 

"  That  you  are  rather  undependable." 

"  Were  you  really  vexed  with  me  for  driving  hard  to- 
day? Surely  you  knew  that  there  was  no  danger!  I 
would  not  have  risked  a  hair  of  your  head  —  " 

"  I  know,  of  course,  that  you  think  there  was  no  dan- 
ger. I  object  to  reckless  driving  personally,  and  I  ob- 
ject to  letting  my  friends  undergo  it.  You  did  not 
know  that  Miss  Cunningham  was  not  an  intensely  nerv- 
ous girl.  If  it  had  been  Edith  Hofman  she  might  have 
tried  to  jump  out." 

"When  you  are  indignant,  Star,  and  catch  your 
breath  like  that,  you  are  like  a  little  bird  ruffling  up  its 
feathers.  You  never  could  do  anything  but  peck,  how- 
ever angry  you  were,  and  your  voice  would  always  be 
pretty  and  soft." 

He  spoke  as  coolly  as  ever,  but  the  brilliancy  of  his 
eyes  altered  as  they  rested  on  her  face.  They  tried  to 
look  tender,  and  succeeded  in  looking  sensual.  Star- 
ling shrank  in  the  shadow  of  the  back  seat,  and  drew 
her  hand  away  from  his  as  it  touched  her  —  no  more. 
Polly  Harbord  had  said  —  but  it  did  not  matter. 

"  I  don't  want  my  peculiarities  inventoried,  thank 
you,"  she  said  sturdily.  Starling  always  knew  her  own 
mind.  "  My  objection  to  you  to-day  is  mainly  that 
you  said  certain  things  to  Margery  Cunningham  which 
were  totally  unnecessary,  —  and  you  said  them  before 
Major  Vibart.  I  do  not  care  for  Major  Vibart,  though 
I  do  not  wish  to  say  anything  against  him.  But,  you 
know,  in  his  Regiment,  they  call  him  '  the  Tracker '  — 
and  you  know  why." 

She  jumped  down  at  her  own  gate  and  held  out  her 
hand.  "Good-bye,"  she  said  simply.  "John  will  drive 
you  home.  Yes,  please  —  it  is  too  hot  for  any  one  to 
walk,  and  it  will  not  take  him  five  minutes."  She  gave 
herself  a  little  shake  as  she  went  into  the  house,  as 
though  she  settled  her  plumage.  "  I  am  glad  I  said 


48  The  Story  of  Eden 

that  to  him  —  he  ought  n't  to  have  spoken  as  he  did. 
It  was  time  I  pulled  him  up.  The  sunshine  and  the 
intimacy  and  the  licence  here  make  the  men  careless. 
I  know  it  means  nothing  —  summer  weather  and  pro- 
pinquity and  idleness  —  that  is  all.  But  —  I  wonder 
what  would  have  happened  if  I  had  left  my  hand 
there?"  She  frowned  a  little.  Starling  was  not  much 
older  than  Margery,  but  she  had  learned  a  great  deal 
more  in  the  same  time. 

"It  doesn't  matter  —  but  all  the  same  it  does,"  she 
said  to  herself.  "  We  are  all  so  careless  that  we  drift, 
and  it  seems  silly  to  make  a  fuss  over  a  little  thing,  so 
it  grows,  and  before  one  knows,  people  gossip.  And 
Polly  Harbord  says  —  " 


CHAPTER  III 

"  The  Book  of  Life  begins  with  a  Man  and  a  Woman  in  a 
Garden  .  .  .  and  it  ends  with  Revelations." 

"  SHALL  I  go  round  to  the  stables  and  ask  your  man 
for  a  ladder?"  said  True.  "It  is  a  pity  to  leave 
that  hanging  branch  —  if  the  wind  gets  up  it  will  be 
broken." 

He  was  standing  beside  Margery  in  the  drive,  look- 
ing up  at  the  climbing  roses  which  were  trained  up  the 
pillars  of  the  stoep  and  along  the  balcony. 

"  Yes,  I  wish  you  would  —  do  you  mind  ?  "  she  said. 
"  Robert  ought  to  do  it,  but  Anthony  sends  him  on  so 
many  errands  that  he  has  hardly  time  to  attend  to  the 
garden.  You  will  find  the  ladder  in  the  coachhouse. 
I  want  that  rose  to  grow  all  along  the  balcony  —  it 
looks  so  pretty  from  my  windows  !  Do  you  think  it 
will?" 

"Are  those  your  windows?" 

"Yes,  overhead.  Isn't  it  a  Juliet  balcony?  I  think 
you  ought  to  come  and  serenade  me  one  night?" 

"  I  will  bring  the  big  drum,"  said  True,  serenely. 
"  It  is  the  only  instrument  that  I  can  play." 

"  Have  you  ever  played  it?  " 

"  Yes  —  the  other  day  when  we  were  coming  home 
from  a  long  march.  They  trained  the  Rifles,  and  they 
made  us  walk.  And  the  men  were  tired.  So  to  amuse 
them,  I  went  in  front  and  took  the  drum.  I  played 
them  back  to  Camp.  They  quite  forgot  to  be  tired, 
they  were  so  interested  in  watching  me." 

"  How  you  do  love  your  men,  True  !  " 

He  smiled  without  answering.  "Shall  I  get  the 
ladder?"  he  suggested  in  his  quick,  handy  fashion. 


50  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  We  will  do  our  best  to  make  that  rose  grow  as  you 
want  it." 

"  You  will  do  your  best,  you  mean.  I  shall  probably 
look  on."  She  sat  down  contentedly  on  the  edge  of 
the  stoep  in  the  sunshine,  her  eyes  resting  dreamily  on 
the  sunny  green  land  all  round  her,  which  looked 
warm  and  sleepy  in  the  afternoon  light.  Half  an  hour 
later  Mrs.  Drysdale,  coming  up  the  drive,  laughed  at 
the  tableau, — True  on  the  ladder,  nailing  up  the  rose, 
and  Margery  sitting  at  the  foot,  her  elbows  on  her 
knees  and  her  chin  in  her  hands. 

"  I  knew  True  was  here  when  I  saw  the  ladder,"  she 
said,  sitting  down  beside  Margery.  "  All  right,  Captain 
Truman,  you  need  n't  come  down.  Go  on  with  your 
work,  and  I  will  talk  to  Madge." 

"  He  dropped  in  half  an  hour  ago,"  Margery  said, 
with  a  nod  at  True.  "  And  I  always  set  him  to  work 
when  he  comes.  It  is  the  easiest  way  of  entertaining 
him." 

"  Did  you  go  to  the  Field-day  manoeuvres  yesterday?  " 

"  Yes,  Starling  and  Mr.  Livingston  and  I.  I  do  like 
Mr.  Livingston  !  He  amuses  me  so." 

"  He  is  an  old  fraud  !  But,  yes,  he  is  amusing.  I 
have  just  left  him  at  Friedenhof.  He  said  he  should 
come  on  here  and  fetch  me." 

"  The  way  that  people  drop  in  on  you  here  is  delight- 
ful !  "  Margery  said  with  a  long  sigh  of  pleasure.  "  It 
makes  things  so  friendly,  and  I  have  got  to  know  every 
one  round  here  quite  well.  Why,  I  call  Captain  Tru- 
man '  True '  already  —  and  I  am  sure  I  ought  not  to." 

"  Why  should  n't  you  ?  Every  one  does.  And  be- 
sides True  does  n't  count.  If  I  heard  you  calling  Mr- 
Forrester,  Pete,  I  should  advise  you  not  perhaps." 

"  Oh,  but  of  course  I  should  n't  do  that !  I  don't 
know  why,  but  one  never  gets  to  know  Mr.  Forrester. 
He  is  very  nice  socially,  and  I  like  talking  to  him  — 
but  I  never  want  to  know  him  any  better.  He  is  quite 
satisfactory  as  he  is." 


The  Story  of  Eden  51 

"  He  is  represented  in  most  people's  minds  by  his 
knack  of  saying  clever  things  —  or  things  that  sound 
clever.  But  there  really  is  more  of  him  than  that,  and 
I  am  not  sure  that  it  is  a  nice  more.  He  tells  a  very 
good  story ;  but  unfortunately  he  has  grown  so  used  to 
doing  so  that  if  the  story  is  not  good  of  itself  he  em- 
proves  upon  it.  He  will  not  allow  his  reputation  to 
suffer  for  the  sake  of  verity.  Don't  always  believe 
him." 

"  I  don't  think  I  do.  He  just  amuses  me  —  I  hardly 
listen.  Mrs.  Drysdale,  I  have  been  thinking  that  I 
should  so  like  to  have  some  tennis  afternoons  here. 
Do  you  think  I  could?" 

"  Why  not  ?  It  is  a  charming  house,  and  now  you 
have  got  it  into  order  it  looks  very  nice.  Your  court 
is  a  good  one  too,  I  know.  Is  your  brother  the 
objection?" 

"  I  am  afraid  he  would  make  some,  anyhow  !  " 

"  I  wonder  if  I  could  manage  him  ?  It  is  wonderful 
how  much  more  easy  other  women  find  it  to  manage  our 
brothers  than  we  do  ourselves.  And  perhaps  True 
can  help." 

"What  is  that  in  which  I  can  help,  Lady?"  asked 
True,  as  he  descended  the  ladder  and  stood  in  front  of 
them.  "  The  rose  is  all  right.  When  it  has  grown  a 
little  more,  I  will  tie  it  up  again." 

"  Why,  Margery  wants  to  start  tennis  here,  and  is 
afraid  of  the  Professor.  How  you  are  advancing, 
Madge  !  I  can  hardly  recognise  in  you  the  tear-stained 
individual  of  three  weeks  ago." 

"  Please  don't !  What  a  little  fool  I  was  !  But  I 
was  very  miserable." 

"  I  found  her  weeping  bitterly  because  the  furniture 
would  not  arrange  itself,  and  the  servants  would  not 
work,  and  the  Professor  stormed, "  Mrs.  Drysdale 
explained  to  True. 

His  large  eyes  rested  on  the  vexed  crimson  of  Mar- 


52  The  Story  of  Eden 

gery's  face  with  a  beautiful  concern.  "  Was  it  as  bad 
as  that?"  he  said  softly.  "I  wish  I  had  known." 

"  Why?     You  could  n't  have  done  anything." 

"  I  could  have  cried  too." 

"Are  you  going  to  give  us  tea,  Madge?"  Mrs.  Drys- 
dale  said  as  she  rose.  "  I  think  I  ought  to  get  home." 

"  I  told  them  to  put  it  outside  the  morning-room,  on 
the  stoep." 

Mrs.  Drysdale  slipped  her  arm  into  the  girl's,  and 
they  walked  round  the  house  together,  while  Truman 
took  the  ladder  back  to  the  stables.  "  Is  your  brother 
at  home?"  Mrs.  Drysdale  asked  musingly.  "Does  he 
ever  come  to  tea?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  often.  But  he  reads  the  paper  most  of 
the  time.  I  tried  to  talk  to  him  at  first,  but  he  said 
he  would  rather  I  held  my  tongue.  If  I  had  nothing 
worth  saying  I  was  only  annoying  him  for  nothing." 

"Does  he  generally  make  such  pretty  speeches?" 

"Yes,  generally." 

"  Yet  he  can  be  as  pleasant  as  possible.  There  is 
a  good  deal  of  difference  in  your  ages,  is  n't  there  ?  " 

"Nearly  twenty-five  years." 

"  He  is  old  enough  to  be  your  father  !  What  made 
you  come  out  to  him  ?  " 

"  It  was  Anthony's  own  suggestion,  and  as  he  is  the 
moneyed  member  of  the  family,  his  words  have  weight. 
He  wanted  some  one  to  keep  house  for  him,  and  he  said 
he  could  give  me  a  home  instead  of  my  earning  my 
living  in  any  other  way.  His  letter  was  not  partic- 
ularly kind,  but  it  was  very  uncontrovertible.  I  think 
sensible  people  are  very  trying,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  They  make  mistakes  too,  sometimes,  like  the  silliest. 
I  wonder  your  brother  had  you  out  like  this.  A  min- 
ute's thought  would  have  suggested  to  him  that  a  girl 
of  twenty  is  not  an  automatic  machine  to  be  applied 
to  fill  a  long  felt  want,  and  to  be  instantly  satisfactory 
—  especially  in  Africa.  She  will  possibly  grow,  and 


The  Story  of  Eden  53 

inevitably  gain  experience.  And  it  may  not  be  con- 
fined to  housekeeping."  Mrs.  Drysdale  appeared  to 
be  musing  outloud.  Then  she  turned  to  Margery  more 
directly.  "  Do  you  like  the  Colony,  Madge?" 

"Yes,  Ido,  very  much.  I  love  the  sunshine;  I  am 
a  regular  pagan  !  I  should  like  to  worship  Apollo. 
And  then  there  is  so  much  more  doing  here  than 
there  was  at  home.  And,  in  spite  of  Anthony,  I  go 
out  far  more.  I  do  like  to  enjoy  myself !  " 

"  You  are  an  honest  little  person,  and  it  is  quite  nat- 
ural. Here  comes  your  brother  with  True  ! " 

The  Professor  did  not  read  the  paper  while  he  drank 
his  tea.  He  talked  to  Mrs.  Drysdale,  of  whose  long, 
graceful  figure  and  taste  in  dress  he  approved.  He 
even  forbore  to  do  more  than  absolutely  decline  to 
hear  of  it  when  she  suggested  the  tennis  afternoons. 
He  was  not  at  all  rude,  and  he  did  not  abuse  her ;  he 
merely  said  that  before  he  had  any  of  that  kind  ol 
foolery  at  Vine  Lodge,  he  would  shut  up  the  house  and 
go  and  live  Up  Country,  where  Society  could  not  annoy 
him.  This,  for  him,  was  a  great  self-restraint.  Be- 
cause if  Madge  had  made  the  tennis  suggestion  when 
they  were  alone,  he  would  have  nagged  at  her  for  half 
an  hour  with  interjections  that  still  made  her  turn  from 
white  to  red  and  bite  her  lips.  She  never  could  accus- 
tom herself  to  rough  language. 

"  He  will  come  to  it  yet,"  Mrs.  Drysdale  said  to  her- 
self coolly.  "  When  a  man  says  '  no '  as  boisterously 
as  that,  he  is  always  to  be  managed.  Margery  will  give 
tennis  parties,  and  dinner  parties,  too,  before  the  year 
is  out." 

True  had  gone  on  talking  to  Margery  throughout  the 
discussion.  His  eyes  opened  wider  than  ever,  with  a 
troubled  compassion,  but  he  took  no  other  notice  of 
what  the  Professor  and  Mrs.  Drysdale  were  saying. 
Margery  smiled  a  little ;  her  lips  were  still  so  young 
that  they  found  it  difficult  to  be  bitter,  but  she  had 


54  The  Story  of  Eden 

learned  to  smile  with  a  certain  dryness  of  humour  far 
removed  from  mirth.  "Are  you  going  to  Friedenhof?" 
she  said,  as  True  was  leaving. 

"  I  shall  pass  there  on  my  way,  if  you  have  a  mes- 
sage ?  " 

"  Would  you  mind  telling  Starling  that  I  would  rather 
ride  in  the  afternoon  than  the  morning?" 

"  Yes,  certainly." 

Both  her  visitors  left  together,  and  Margery  stood  on 
the  stoep  to  watch  them  depart  into  the  sunset.  The 
Professor  had  subsided  into  an  easy-chair  and  the  news- 
paper, but  his  ill-tempered  figure  was  still  visible  be- 
hind her  as  they  turned  round  at  the  curve  of  the  drive 
to  look  back. 

"Anthony  Cunningham  is  a  brute  !  "  said  Mrs.  Drys* 
dale,  calmly.  "  Don't  contradict  me,  True  !  I  say  he 
is  a  brute  !  " 

"I  don't  think  he  means  to  be,  Lady.  It  is  only 
manner,  and  perhaps  he  has  got  into  the  habit  of  say- 
ing disagreeable  things." 

"  I  wish  you  were  not  so  invariably  charitable.  You 
are  always  poking  round  into  rubbish-heaps  for  stray 
jewels.  You  may  poke  and  poke  in  the  Professor,  but 
beyond  general  nastiness,  you  won't  find  anything  in- 
teresting. The  worst  of  it  is,  that  he  is  driving  that 
little  girl  into  outside  distraction.  And  that  is  not  good 
for  any  little  girl  out  here.  We  must  help  her,  True." 

"  Yes,  Lady,  I  want  to." 

They  shook  hands  at  the  open  gate  and  parted. 
True  turned  to  the  left,  and  took  the  longer  road  to 
Camp  that  led  round  past  Friedenhof.  Mrs.  Drysdale 
went  to  the  right,  and  twenty  yards  farther  on  was 
overtaken  by  Beaumont  Livingston. 

"  Well  met !  "  he  said  gaily ;  "  though  I  meant  you 
to  stay  at  Vine  Lodge  until  I  came ;  I  should  thus  have 
seen  two  charming  ladies  instead  of  one.  Miss  Cun- 
ningham sent  her  love  to  me,  of  course?" 


The  Story  of  Eden  55 

"  If  you  wanted  to  know,  you  might  have  left  Frie- 
denhof  a  little  sooner  and  come  in  to  Vine  Lodge ;  as 
it  is,  you  only  just  caught  me.  I  am  troubled  about 
Madge,"  she  added,  as  they  walked  on  side  by  side. 
"  I  have  just  been  telling  True  —  " 

"Yes,  I  met  him.  Don't  tell  True;  tell  me.  What 
was  he  doing  at  Vine  Lodge  ?  " 

"  Nailing  up  a  creeper.  Oh,  that  is  all  right ;  don't 
be  ridiculous  !  Margery  has  been  at  Vine  Lodge  three 
weeks ;  but  the  atmosphere  out  here  has  the  effect  of 
a  forcing  house.  She  might  have  left  England  three 
months.  She  is  older." 

"  We  must  all  leave  the  nursery  in  time.  But  I  see 
no  alarming  symptoms  in  Margery.  Did  you  ever 
encounter  a  more  blooming  specimen  of  youth  and 
health?  I  do  not  want  to  kiss  many  people,  but  I 
confess  I  always  think  of  kisses  when  I  look  at  her ! 
She  is  so  nice  and  soft  and  round  ! " 

"  Don't  be  so  terribly  material !  It  was  not  Mar- 
gery's body  that  I  was  thinking  of;  it  was  her  mind. 
She  is  not  growing  as  yet ;  she  is  only  living !  I  ex- 
pected her  to  develop." 

"What  —  in  three  weeks?  And  you  own  that  she 
is  older !  I  don't  see  what  more  you  could  expect  of 
her  in  the  time.  Do  leave  the  poor  child  alone.  She 
is  living  and  expanding,  like  all  young  animals,  and 
by-and-by  she  will  'develop'  quite  sufficiently  to  be 
disagreeable.  At  present  she  is  as  transparent  as  fine 
glass  —  " 

"  And  as  shallow  !  " 

"  Of  course  she  is,  and  quite  right,  too !  Depths 
are  always  uncomfortable  things,  and  to  be  happy  as 
she  is  happy  requires  a  skill  beyond  yours  and  mine. 
We  lost  it  long  since  !  "  For  a  minute  his  face  altered, 
and  he  was  an  elderly  man.  Some  shadow  from  his 
eyes  seemed  to  be  reflected  in  Mrs.  Drysdale's.  They 
shook  hands  silently,  and  parted  at  her  own  gate. 


56  The  Story  of  Eden 

True  faithfully  delivered  Madge's  message,  and  she 
rode  with  Starling  the  following  afternoon.  The  Pro- 
fessor had  not  yet  obtained  a  pony  for  his  sister,  but 
he  was  in  treaty  for  one,  and  Madge  looked  forward  to 
the  new  possession  eagerly.  As  she  turned  in  at  her 
own  gates,  she  saw  a  figure  coming  towards  her  down 
the  drive,  and  drew  rein  in  some  surprise. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Major  Vibart?  "  she  said,  bending 
down  to  shake  hands. 

"How  are  you?"  he  returned  pleasantly.  "I  have 
just  been  to  call  upon  you ;  I  was  sorry  to  find  you  out." 

"  Is  Anthony  out,  too?  " 

"So  your  servants  say.     He  has  gone  to  Newlands." 

"  I  did  not  know  he  was  going.  Won't  you  come 
back  to  the  house  and  have  some  tea?  "  She  was  not 
quite  sure  that  she  ought  to  suggest  it  in  the  Professor's 
absence,  but  she  was  quite  sure  that  she  wanted  to  do 
so.  And  it  was  only  tea,  after  all ;  tea  was  not  like 
dinner  !  Of  course  she  would  not  ask  him  to  dinner ; 
but  True  had  had  tea  alone  with  her  once ;  and  — 
"  Will  you  come,"  she  said. 

"  Thanks  —  if  you  are  going  to  have  it  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  am."  She  turned  in  her  saddle  to 
extricate  herself  from  the  pommel  and  jump  down. 
Vibart  came  to  the  rescue  before  the  Kaffir  boy  could 
dismount,  and  putting  his  hands  on  her  waist,  lifted 
her  easily  to  the  ground. 

"  I  am  always  afraid  to  see  girls  jump ;  they  so  often 
twist  their  ankles,"  he  said  quietly. 

"  Take  the  ponies  back,  please,  John,"  Margery  said 
to  her  late  escort.  "And  tell  Miss  Dodd  I  will  be 
ready  any  time  after  ten  to-morrow  morning.  Come 
along,  Major  Vibart ;  tea  is  on  the  stoep." 

"  I  did  not  know  you  rode,"  he  said,  as  he  followed 
her. 

"  I  am  learning.     I  like  it  so  much  !     Sugar?  " 

" Please.    You  were  riding  one  of  Dodd's  ponies?  " 


The  Story  of  Eden  57 

"  Yes ;  Anthony  is  going  to  get  one  for  me,  but  he 
hasn't  arranged  for  it  yet.  I  am  getting  on  quite 
nicely.  I  can  trot  —  at  last." 

"  I  wish  you  would  let  me  give  you  a  few  lessons," 
he  said  slowly.  "  Would  you  ?  I  don't  suppose  your 
brother  has  much  time ;  and  I  think  it  is  really  safer 
for  you  to  learn  with  a  man  than  with  another  girl. 
Suppose  something  happened?" 

"  But  nothing  has  happened ;  and  I  am  past  the 
worst  stage  now.  Thank  you  very  much;  but  I  am 
afraid  —  " 

"You  think  your  brother  would  not  let  you  ride 
with  me?  " 

Margery  blushed  as  generously  as  the  roses.  She 
remembered  every  hint  and  accusation  she  had  heard 
against  this  man,  and  felt  small  and  mean  in  the  sight 
of  the  grave  blue  eyes  watching  her.  If  only  he  had 
not  put  it  in  that  way  ! 

"Anthony  is  rather  odd  about  things,"  she  said 
breathlessly.  "  I  don't  often  ask  leave  to  do  this  or 
that,  because  it  makes  such  a  fuss,  that 's  all.  I  wanted 
to  have  tennis  here,  and  you  can't  think  how  cross  he 
was  !  It  is  only  because  he  dislikes  being  asked." 

"  Supposing  I  got  his  permission,  you  would  have  no 
objection  to  ride  with  me?  " 

"  Of  course  not ;  I  should  be  very  pleased  —  par- 
ticularly if  you  will  finish  my  education,"  she  said 
hastily. 

"  I  will  be  a  most  exacting  master.  How  long  have 
you  been  out  here,  Miss  Cunningham  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dear,  every  one  asks  me  that !  Am  I  so  obvi- 
ously new?" 

"  You  are  rather.  I  always  think  more  regretfully  of 
England  after  I  have  met  you." 

She  looked  up  to  laugh  and  say  she  could  not  see  the 
compliment,  met  his  eyes,  and  was  again  conscious  of 
that  strange  signal  between  them.  "What  is  it?  "  she 


58  The  Story  of  Eden 

said  inwardly.  "What  is  it?  I  seem  to  have  known 
him  —  to  have  almost  belonged  to  him  —  ever  so  long 
ago  —  from  the  beginning." 

"  I  have  been  out  three  weeks,"  she  said  soberly. 
"  Not  long  enough  to  alter  my  excessive  greenness,  I 
suppose.  I  am  what  the  Australians  call  a  '  tenderfoot.'  " 

"  I  hope  you  won't  lose  your  freshness,  for  all  our 
sakes." 

"  I  said  '  greenness.'  " 

"  And  I  said  '  freshness.'  " 

Madge  made  him  a  present  of  another  blush.  She 
was  rather  prodigal  of  her  ruddy  favours  in  those  days, 
but  it  was  a  habit  she  never  entirely  lost.  As  John 
Mortimer  Vibart  sat  in  his  wicker  chair  on  the  stoep, 
where  a  jutting  wall  covered  with  honeysuckle  made  a 
cosy  corner  behind  him,  his  eyes  could  rest  without  let 
or  hindrance  on  the  sun-shot  cobwebs  of  her  hair,  — 
for  she  had  thrown  her  hat  aside,  and  the  wind  had 
ruffled  her  head,  snare-wise,  —  on  the  curved  sweep  of 
her  eyelashes  with  the  glint  of  blue  between  them,  the 
ingenuous  tilted  line  of  nose  and  upper  lip  and  chin, 
all  shortened  and  rounded  with  the  unformed  softness 
of  youth.  Under  her  chin  the  little  white  throat  melted 
into  the  hard  linen  collar,  and  below  that  the  severe 
habit  made  the  utmost  of  a  developing  bust  and  slen- 
der waist.  She  held  the  habit  out  of  her  way  with  her 
left  hand  while  she  stood  beside  the  tea-table  pouring 
out  the  tea  with  her  right.  He  missed  no  curve  of  her 
as  he  sat  in  his  corner  watching  with  the  steady,  de- 
vouring gaze  of  a  beast  of  prey.  As  fresh  and  fragrant 
as  the  honeysuckle,  as  dainty  and  delicate  as  the  fretted 
sunshine  among  the  firs,  as  young  and  maidenly  as  the 
ripening  fruit  in  the  garden  there  below,  —  not  ready 
to  be  picked  as  yet.  Vibart  looked,  and  coveted,  much 
as  he  might  have  coveted  the  cool  sweet  grapes  if  this 
had  been  the  barren  and  dry  land  where  no  water  is, 
that  it  has  the  reputation  of  being. 


The  Story  of  Eden  59 

"  You  like  the  Colony  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Very  much.     Don't  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly  —  just  now." 

If  he  had  not  laughed,  she  might  have  suspected 
danger ;  as  it  was  she  laughed  also.  It  was  so  good  to 
laugh,  and  there  could  be  no  fear  where  people  were 
merely  merry.  They  were  still  laughing  and  talking  by 
the  tea-table  when  the  thin,  angular  figure  of  the  Pro- 
fessor sauntered  round  the  house,  and  came  up  the 
steps,  peering  with  prominent  brown  eyes  to  see  who 
Madge's  visitor  could  be.  He  seemed  surprised  to 
recognise  Vibart,  and  his  sister's  tensely-strung  nerves 
quivered  into  relief  at  the  civility,  which  was  almost 
cordiality,  of  his  tone.  She  had  yet  to  learn  that  the 
Professor  differed  from  his  Maker  as  much  as  possible 
in  being  a  respecter  of  persons.  Vibart  was  not  only 
second  in  command,  but  well  off  in  a  Regiment  which 
was  notoriously  poor.  The  Professor  shook  hands  with 
him,  hardly  listening  to  Madge's  hesitating  explanation 
of  his  presence,  and  offered  him  a  cigar. 

"Will  you  have  a  whisky,  Major?  "  he  said.  "I  'm 
sure  it 's  better  for  you  than  all  that  washy  tanin." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Vibart,  carelessly.  "  If  you  are  hav- 
ing one  yourself." 

"  Tell  the  girl  to  bring  soda  and  glasses,  Madge,"  the 
Professor  said  over  his  shoulder.  "  That 's  the  most 
comfortable  chair,  Major.  Sit  down  and  have  a  chat. 
I  have  n't  seen  a  civilised  being  to  speak  to  for  days. 
I  'm  sorry  I  was  out  this  afternoon." 

Margery  could  hardly  believe  her  ears.  She  gave  the 
servant  the  requested  instructions,  and  having  seen  her 
brother  and  his  guest  supplied  with  drink  and  smoke, 
slipped  away  to  her  own  room  to  meditate. 

"  How  nice  he  is !  "  she  thought,  and  she  was  not 
referring  to  her  brother.  "  He  talks  so  well,  and  he 
is  n't  a  bit  silly,  though  he  does  —  make  you  —  feel  —  " 
She  went  out  on  the  balcony  round  which  True  had 


60  The  Story  of  Eden 

trained  the  roses,  and  leaned  her  arms  on  the  rail. 
From  the  stoep  beneath  came  the  sound  of  her  brother's 
voice  and  Vibart's ;  they  had  reached  the  question  of 
the  increase  of  the  coloured  population,  and  the  Pro- 
fessor was  snarling.  Vibart's  tones  were  the  more 
pleasant  to  listen  to  by  contrast;  he  spoke  with  a  full, 
soft  note  that  rose  and  fell  easily.  Margery  listened  to 
the  sound  with  enjoyment,  she  could  not  distinguish 
the  words,  but  he  appeared  to  have  left  the  political 
view,  and  to  be  telling  a  story,  for  the  Professor  laughed. 
Many  older  women  than  Margery  Cunningham  had 
experienced  the  charm  of  Vibart's  voice  and  manner,  — 
he  was  clever  socially,  —  but  it  was  fortunate  that  the 
drift  of  his  present  conversation  passed  Margery's  ears, 
unhearing.  When  with  men  he  was  very  excellent 
company. 

The  Professor  came  to  the  dinner-table  in  a  good 
temper.  The  whisky  he  had  drunk  had  not  yet 
affected  his  liver,  and  had  raised  his  spirits.  He 
remarked  that  Vibart  was  a  nice  fellow  and  a  gentle- 
man, and  Margery's  heart  warmed  to  her  brother  for 
his  discrimination. 

"  At  least  he  does  not  listen  to  gossip,  or  allow  it  to 
prejudice  him.  He  must  have  heard  plenty  of  stories 
about  Major  Vibart,  yet  he  openly  says  he  is  glad  to  see 
him.  Of  course  if  he  thought  him  a  really  questionable 
character,  he  would  not  have  him  here,  as  I  am  in  the 
house,  —  and  he  seemed  to  quite  like  my  talking  to 
him,"  she  thought  in  all  innocence.  The  Professor  was 
in  truth  somewhat  pleased  that  his  sister  had  appeared 
able  to  entertain  Major  Vibart  in  his  absence,  and  that 
gentleman's  attitude  towards  her  had  raised  her  in  her 
brother's  estimation.  The  Professor  was  sublimely 
indifferent  to  people's  reputations,  quite  superior  to 
such  grovelling  details,  in  fact,  so  long  as  no  disagree- 
able consequences  accrued  to  him  from  their  acquaint- 
ance. If  the  Major  had  been  a  shady  character  as 


The  Story  of  Eden  61 

regarded  debt,  or  gambling,  or  drink,  and  had  not  worn 
such  well-cut  coats  and  been  welcome  in  the  uppermost 
seats  of  the  Wynbergian  synagogue,  Anthony  Cunning- 
ham would  have  shunned  him  like  the  plague,  and 
would  have  said  that  he  could  not  afford  to  be  seen 
with  such  people,  —  it  was  damaging  to  his  own  posi- 
tion. But  Vibart  did  not  want  to  borrow  money  of  him, 
and  his  name  of  "  the  Tracker"  threatened  nothing  to 
the  Professor  individually.  He  did  not  look  further. 

"  By  the  way,  Madge,"  he  said  during  dinner.  "  I 
have  seen  that  pony  that  Drysdale  recommended.  I 
think  it  will  do  all  right,  but  I  shall  try  it  myself  first. 
It  is  as  well  to  have  one  that  is  up  to  my  weight,  in  case 
I  want  it  at  any  time.  Vibart  wants  you  to  ride  one  of 
his  for  a  day  or  so." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  mentioned  something  about  it,"  Madge 
said,  as  carelessly  as  she  could.  Her  heart  beat  high, 
and  she  waited  breathlessly  for  what  should  come. 

"  Of  course  if  he  likes  to  lend  it  to  you,  you  can 
accept.  It  is  really  very  good  of  him,  considering  that 
you  are  a  beginner.  For  God's  sake  don't  let  it  down  !  " 

"  I  don't  see  why  I  should  let  Major  Vibart's  pony 
down  any  more  than  Mr.  Dodd's.  I  have  ridden  his 
from  the  first  time  I  went  out,  and  I  am  surely  more  to 
be  trusted  now  than  then." 

She  did  not  ask  whether  the  Major  had  also  offered 
himself  as  an  escort,  but  left  the  arranging  of  the 
situation  to  Fate.  She  went  a  step  further  however 
when  she  wrote  to  Starling,  next  day,  to  say  she  did 
not  think  she  could  come  for  her  usual  ride. 

"  I  sha'n't  say  that  I  am  going  with  Major  Vibart," 
she  argued,  "  because  I  don't  know  that  I  am.  He 
did  n't  say  he  would  bring  the  pony  to-day,  or  send  it. 
Ten  chances  to  one  he  won't.  In  that  case,  I  shall  be 
the  only  one  to  suffer,  because  I  shall  miss  my  ride. 
But  I  will  just  leave  it  and  see.  Anthony  does  n't  like 
my  always  using  Mr.  Dodd's  ponies,  so  a  day  off  is  a 
good  thing." 


62  The  Story  of  Eden 

It  was  a  brilliant  day.  The  air  seemed  to  twinkle 
with  its  own  radiance  and  heat,  and  the  bright-coloured 
country  round  Vine  Lodge  seemed  more  untouched 
with  the  sadness  of  the  world  than  ever.  Margery 
spent  the  morning  on  the  stoep  working ;  it  chanced 
that  no  visitors  dropped  in  on  her,  and  she  had  the 
sunshine  and  the  warm  sweet-smelling  garden  to  her- 
self. The  bugles  called  across  the  distance,  and  a 
detachment  of  infantry  swung  down  the  road,  route- 
marching,  with  the  band  playing  "Tommy  Atkins," 
and  once  a  solitary  horseman  came  down  from  Camp, 
along  the  narrow  white  way  between  the  little  red 
cottages  and  the  vineyards ;  but  he  turned  to  the  left, 
instead  of  coming  up  the  lane  to  Vine  Lodge.  Mar- 
gery took  up  her  work  again  that  had  fallen  in  her  lap, 
and  went  on  sewing. 

The  Professor  had  gone  to  Cape  Town.  Margery 
lunched  alone,  in  the  shaded  dining-room  with  the 
sunlight  trying  to  creep  between  the  lowered  Venetian 
blinds;  she  was  somewhat  sobered  from  her  secret 
anticipations  of  the  morning,  and  ate  her  grapes  pen- 
sively. There  were  always  grapes  at  every  meal 
through  the  season,  cold,  bloomy,  and  luscious,  and 
the  white  wine  of  Constantia  which  is  made  from  them 
and  is  like  Muscatel.  After  luncheon  she  put  on  her 
"cappie,"  which  is  a  big  pink  or  white  sun-bonnet, 
and  went  into  the  sun-warmed  garden.  In  Madge's 
case  the  bonnet  was  pink,  with  a  flapping  border,  and 
her  face  peeped  out  between  the  frills,  which  made  an 
ideal  frame  for  her  young  beauty,  —  warm  lips,  round 
cheeks,  dewy  eyes,  and  hair  like  cobwebs  with  the 
sunshine  tangled  in  it.  She  made  a  tour  through  all 
her  domain,  from  the  little  plantation  of  fir-trees 
behind  the  house,  —  how  odorous  they  smelt,  and 
how  strong  of  pine  in  the  noontide  heat !  —  down 
through  the  kitchen  garden,  the  ripening  mealies,  and 
the  peach-trees,  even  to  the  vineyard.  As  she  saun- 


The  Story  of  Eden  63 

tered  up  the  steps  to  the  higher  level  of  the  drive 
again,  between  the  oleander  bushes,  her  heart  gave  a 
sudden  throb,  and  she  stood  still  with  a  curious  reali- 
sation of  Fate.  Two  horses  stood  before  the  door,  and 
a  figure  in  riding-dress  was  apparently  having  an  alter- 
cation with  the  Kaffir  girl,  who  nodded  and  grinned 
with  double  vehemence  as  Madge  appeared. 

"  Oh,  Major  Vibart,  did  you  mean  to  ride  now  ? 
Won't  it  be  too  hot?"  she  said,  coming  forward,  and 
looking  up  from  the  pink  shadows  of  the  cappie. 

It  was  not  often  that  he  was  taken  at  a  disadvantage, 
but  for  a  second  he  only  looked  and  did  not  speak. 

"  I  thought  I  would  just  come  in  and  see  how  you 
felt  about  it,"  he  said,  and  there  was  some  sort  of 
effort  in  his  voice.  '•'  Do  you  think  it  will  be  too  hot  ? 
It  is  past  three  —  by  the  time  you  have  got  on  your 
habit,  and  we  start,  it  will  be  nearly  four." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  the  heat.  If  you  are  willing,  I 
will  change  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  we  will  go  at 
once.  I  am  quite  ready.  Which  is  my  pony?  This? 
What  a  dear  !  " 

"  He  is  a  capital  lady's  horse."  They  stood  side  by 
side  to  examine  the  animals,  —  a  few  minutes  more  of 
the  sun-bonnet,  before  Madge  changed  into  more  con- 
ventional attire.  Women  are  fond  of  blaming  the 
Devil  for  their  misfortunes,  but  after  all  they  are  his 
best  ministers.  He  can  generally  be  quite  sure  that 
they  will  do  their  best  to  help  him. 

Margery  did  not  take  long  to  change  into  her  habit ; 
an  unacknowledged  fear  that  the  Professor  would  come 
home  before  she  started  made  her  quicker  than  usual. 
Of  course  he  might  raise  no  objection  to  her  riding 
with  Vibart,  or  he  might  join  the  party  himself.  Mar- 
gery honestly  owned  to  herself  that  the  excursion  would 
considerably  lose  its  attractions  if  he  did.  She  had  no 
absolute  assurance  that  he  did  not  mean  her  to  ride 
with  Vibart  alone  —  she  would  do  so  anyhow  this  once, 


64  The  Story  of  Eden 

and  "just  see."  Again  the  influence  of  the  past  few 
weeks. 

"  Now  if  I  do  anything  wrong,  you  must  be  sure  and 
tell  me  of  it,"  she  said  as  she  settled  herself  in  the 
saddle.  "Please,  don't  be  polite  and  only  think 
things." 

"  I  will  put  a  leading  rein  on  your  pony  if  you  like. 
Is  that  stirrup  short  enough?  " 

"  Yes  —  no  !    I  think  I  should  like  it  a  hole  higher." 

She  could  not  help  smiling  down  upon  him  as  he 
stood  with  the  bridle  of  his  own  horse  slung  over  his 
shoulder,  and  his  handsome  face  bent  over  her  foot. 
He  was  extremely  bronzed  from  his  fortnight's  shooting 
Up  Country,  and  Madge  thrilled  a  little  with  pleasure 
as  she  covertly  noted  the  strength  of  his  shorn  square 
chin  and  the  breadth  of  his  chest  and  shoulders.  He 
was  a  tall  man,  well-developed  and  well-trained,  thanks 
to  his  profession.  People  who  go  to  cattle-shows,  and 
are  judges  of  such  things,  observe  and  admire  the  same 
class  of  advantages  in  the  entries  there.  Vibart  was 
standing  so  close  to  her  that  Margery  could  detect  a 
faint  scent  of  cigar  smoke  about  him,  —  ever  a  pleasant 
scent  in  the  open  air,  but  always  with  a  masculine  sug- 
gestion about  it  to  a  woman.  It  was  almost  a  relief 
when  he  swung  himself  into  his  own  saddle  and  they 
rode  away,  up  the  lane,  and  out  of  the  open  gate  into 
the  sunny  red  road. 

"  Now,  where  shall  we  go  ?     To  the  Flats  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Have  you  been  out  to  Bishop's  Court  yet  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  think  so.  We  have  generally  gone  to 
the  Lady's  Mile,  or  out  by  Kenilworth." 

"  This  way  then.  Don't  hold  your  rein  so  tightly, 
please  —  your  pony  will  go  better  if  you  loosen  it." 

"  I  am  so  afraid,  with  a  strange  pony,  that  he  will 
stumble ! " 

"  Oh,  he  is  quite  sure-footed,  and  besides  you  could 
pull  him  up  with  the  rein  like  that.  You  can  hold  a 


The  Story  of  Eden  65 

horse  perfectly  without  letting  him  know  it  until  the 
moment  comes  —  or  a  man  either." 

"  My  experience  of  the  latter  animal  is  limited." 

"Is  it?     I  should  not  have  thought  so." 

"  Perhaps  you  could  give  me  hints  in  that  art  too?  " 

"What  art?" 

"  The  management  of  man." 

"  Miss  Cunningham,  will  you  forgive  me  if  I  say  you 
are  a  little  hypocrite  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  think  I  should  —  so  don't  say  it." 

"  I  shall  think  it  anyhow.  Do  you  really  want  to 
know  how  to  manage  men?  " 

"  It  would  be  interesting  to  hear  a  masculine 
opinion." 

"  Will  you  give  me  a  feminine  opinion  if  I  state 
mine?" 

"  I  won't  promise  —  but  I  think  I  will.     Well?  " 

"  Go  on  as  you  have  begun." 

The  horses  were  walking  side  by  side  up  the  soft  red 
road  in  the  direction  of  the  mountains,  which  rose 
before  them  distinct,  yet  without  a  hard  outline,  and 
warm  with  purple  shadows  and  golden  lights.  Blue 
was  everywhere,  —  in  the  pure  vaulted  sky  over  the 
alternate  oaks  and  firs  which  lined  the  roads,  in  the 
flowerful  plumbago  hedges  crowned  with  quivering 
colour  and  delicate  breath,  and  in  Margery's  eyes 
between  the  curve  of  the  lashes.  The  motion  of  the 
horses  was  enough  to  send  the  blood  flying  through 
her  young  veins  without  the  excitement  of  keeping 
mental  pace  with  the  subtle  influence  of  Vibart's  tone. 
He  said  more  than  the  mere  words  he  spoke. 

"  I  thought  you  were  going  to  advise  me  to  learn  to 
cook,"  she  said,  with  a  laugh  born  of  her  racing 
blood.  "  I  think  that  is  the  feminine  ideal  of  man- 
aging men." 

"  I  should  never  trouble  to  tell  you  to  look  after  a 
man's  physical  wants." 

S 


66  The  Story  of  Eden 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  you  are  much  too  clever  to  neglect  such 
an  obvious  advantage."  Margery  was  young  enough 
to  like  being  called  clever.  "  Miss  Cunningham,  I 
wonder  if  you  would  think  it  very  strange  if  I  confided 
in  you." 

Margery  was  young  enough  to  feel  flattered  by  a 
confidence  from  such  a  man.  She  had  realised  that 
he  was  a  person  of  importance  in  her  present  world, 
and  he  had  a  vaguely  fascinating  reputation ;  further- 
more, he  managed  her  perfectly. 

"  I  should  be  very  flattered,"  she  said,  for  she  was 
an  honest  little  girl. 

"You  know  Beau  Livingston,  don't  you?  " 

«Yes  —  " 

"  He  is  a  friend  of  mine.  He  met  me  this  morning, 
and  in  the  course  of  conversation  he  said,  in  his  light 
way,  that  Miss  Dodd  had  been  trying  to  poison  your 
mind  against  me.  Now,  please,  don't  think  that  I 
believe  that  literally  —  I  know  Livingston  was  only 
joking,  but  I  know  too  that  he  had  some  foundation 
for  the  remark.  Is  n't  that  so  ?" 

The  flush  on  Margery's  face  answered  him. 

"Whatever  Miss  Dodd  said,"  —  Vibart  spoke  in  a 
lower  voice,  and  looking  straight  between  his  horse's 
ears,  —  "I  don't  think  she  would  be  uncharitable. 
But  in  any  case,  I  don't  want  you  to  be  prejudiced 
against  me.  You  won't  let  yourself  be  so,  will  you?  " 

"  No,  of  course  not.  But  indeed  I  don't  listen  to 
gossip,  Major  Vibart.  You  must  n't  think  —  " 

"  1  don't  think  anything.  Only  I  am  very  anxious 
that  you  should  be  friends  with  me  —  will  you  ?  You 
don't  know  how  much  a  man  in  my  position  values  a 
girl's  friendship  !  " 

It  was  as  old  as  the  hills,  —  a  paraphrase  of  the 
eternal.  "I  am  a  bad  man,  and  you,  as  a  good 
woman,  can  influence  me.  Undertake  my  conver- 


The  Story  of  Eden  67 

sion,"  —  with  the  added  reference  to  his  unusual 
misfortune  skilfully  thrown  in.  Madge  was  quick  to 
feel ;  her  eyes  grew  rather  misty,  and  she  impulsively 
reached  out  her  hand  to  him. 

"  Indeed  I  will !  And  I  don't  mind  what  anybody 
says.  They  are  sure  to  gossip  in  a  place  like  this." 

He  took  the  kind  little  hand,  and  turning  back  the 
riding  gauntlet  kissed  the  soft  wrist.  It  was  very 
chivalrous,  Madge  thought,  and  even  if  an  element  of 
flirtation  should  enter  into  their  compact  of  friendship, 
it  could  not  possibly  matter  now  that  they  understood 
each  other.  "  Poor  man,  I  daresay  he  is  glad  enough 
to  distract  himself ! "  she  thought  ingenuously.  "  And 
it  won't  hurt  me  ! "  Twenty  is  an  age  when  we  are 
serenely  certain  of  being  bullet-proof. 

"Shall  we  try  a  canter?"  Vibart  said  in  a  lighter 
tone,  and,  Madge  assenting,  they  rode  joyously  forward 
between  the  sunlit  earth  and  the  blue  sky,  with  no 
trace  in  their  faces  of  tragedy  in  the  past  or  thought 
for  the  morrow.  It  was  a  splendid  ride,  Madge  always 
thought  afterwards ;  she  did  not  know  that  she  would 
ever  enjoy  another  more.  Vibart  was  a  delightful  com- 
panion, tactful,  amusing,  ready  to  laugh  or  to  fence 
with  "verbal  point  and  parry,"  with  the  facility  of  twenty 
years'  practice  behind  him,  and  the  whetted  appetite  of 
the  present  to  make  him  exert  himself. 

"I  hope  we  shall  have  many  rides  together,"  he 
said,  as  they  turned  homewards  again. 

"  I  hope  we  shall,"  Madge  assented  gaily. 

"  May  I  come  to-morrow?  It  is  a  pity  to  lose  the 
fine  weather  at  the  end  of  the  summer  !  " 

"  I  shall  be  very  pleased,"  said  Madge,  wondering 
how  she  was  to  explain  to  Starling.  "What  a  pity 
summer  does  n't  last  all  the  year  round,  even  here  !  " 

"  Winter  is  not  so  serious  a  season  as  in  England, 
you  know.  It  is  cold  and  rainy,  but  one  gets  beautiful 
warm  days,  and  sunshine  nearly  always," 


68  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  I  am  glad  of  that.    Don't  you  love  the  sunshine  ?  " 

"What  a  lot  of  love  you  do  waste  on  inanimate 
Nature  !  You  loved  that  old  house  of  the  Bishop's 
just  now,  and  now  it  is  the  sunshine  !  " 

"I  always  think  Nature  is  so  well  worth  loving.  She 
gives  you  measure  for  measure." 

"Not  more  than  human  beings,  surely?" 

"  I  don't  know.  There  is  always  '  1'un  qui  baise,' 
you  know." 

"Is  there?     I  do  not  know,  but  am  open  to  learn." 

"  Now  you  are  talking  nonsense." 

"  Excuse  me,  we  were  talking  about  measure  for 
measure,  and  '  le  baiser.'  " 

She  laughed  in  spite  of  herself.  "  Well,  can  you 
honestly  say  you  have  ever  given  measure  for 
measure?  " 

"  In  what  commodity?  " 

"  I  could  only  mean  one  !  " 

"  Why  not  ?    Have  you  never  tried  —  " 

"  Of  course  I  have  n't ! " 

«  What  ?  " 

She  gave  a  vexed  laugh  at  finding  herself  in  a  cor- 
ner. "  I  mean  —  well,  what  did  you  mean?  "  she  said. 

"  What  I  mean  is  that  if  you  like  to  offer  me  either, 
I  will  give  measure  for  measure  — '  pressed  down,  and 
running  over.'  " 

But  without  answering,  she  put  her  pony  into  a  can- 
ter and  rode  on  through  the  sun  and  the  shadow,  with 
the  wind  cooling  the  surprised  flush  on  her  face.  "  He 
should  n't  —  oh,  he  should  n't  really,"  she  thought 
between  her  irrepressible  laughter  and  the  intoxication 
of  her  own  high  spirits.  "  But  he  got  me  nicely  into  a 
corner,  and  how  cool  of  him  to  turn  it  round  like 
that ! " 

Not  until  they  had  nearly  reached  Vine  Lodge  again 
did  Vibart  refer  to  their  compact. 

"  I  wish  you  would  give  me  a  piece  of  plumbago  to 


The  Story  of  Eden  69 

remind  me  of  this  ride  of  ours,"  he  said.  "  Won't  you  ? 
Because  we  are  going  to  be  such  friends." 

Margery  leaned  from  her  saddle  and  pulled  a  spray 
of  the  ephemeral  blue  flowers. 

"  How  pretty  they  are  !  "  she  said,  "  and  how  soon 
they  fade.  They  look  nothing  by  gaslight  either  — 
they  are  just  made  for  the  sunshine  and  the  day. 
There  —  "  some  instinct  of  coquetry  had  made  her 
divide  the  flowers  and  tuck  half  of  them  into  her  breast. 
"  There  is  your  reminder.  I  suppose  you  will  find  it 
withered  to-morrow  morning,  and  throw  it  away,  won- 
dering why  you  kept  it.  And  then  what  becomes  of 
the  remembrance?  " 

"  You  can  be  very  cruel,  Miss  Margery.  But  I  shall 
leave  facts  to  contradict  you." 

As  he  took  the  flower,  his  eyes  met  hers,  and  she 
drew  back.  Only  for  an  instant  —  then  she  had  lost 
the  impression  again,  and  they  rode  home  gaily.  She 
kept  her  little  feeling  of  triumphant  amusement  all  the 
evening,  and  the  smile  in  her  eyes  and  the  song  on  her 
lips  partook  of  it. 

"  Si  vous  n'avez  rien  4  me  dire, 
Pourquoi  venir  aupres  de  moi  ?  " 

"  I  wish  you  would  get  out  of  that  disgusting  habit 
of  humming,  Madge,"  said  the  Professor.  Yesterday's 
whisky  was  revenging  itself  upon  him. 

"  I  '11  go  into  the  garden  —  then  you  won't  hear  me," 
said  Margery,  somewhat  flippantly. 

"  Pourquoi  me  faire  ce  sourire, 

Qui  tournerait  la  tete  d'un  roi ! " 

" Would  it,  I  wonder?  'Qui  tournerait  la  tete  d'une 
reine  '  —  I  daresay  !" 

"  Si  vous  n'avez  rien  i  m'  apprendre 

Pourquoi  me  pressez  vous  la  main  ?— 
Sur  le  reve  angelique  et  tendre 
Auquel  vous  songez  en  chemin  I  " 


yo  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  I  wonder  if  he  knew  that  he  had  slipped  from  Miss 
Cunningham  into  Miss  Margery  in  one  single  after- 
noon ?  I  must  really  be  careful,  or  we  might  lose  the 
'  Miss '  altogether.  Should  I  mind  much  ?  I  wonder  — 
no,  I  won't  wonder.  I  will  just  enjoy." 


CHAPTER  IV 

"  Doubt  not  the  heavy  Snake  was  whitt 
Who  tempted  Eve  from  Paradise  I " 

JOHNNIE  DODD  had  come  down  from  Johannesburg  two 
years  since  and  settled  at  Friedenhof  because  it  was  the 
most  expensive  house  he  could  find.  He  was  a  simple 
soul,  and  believed  in  the  touchstone  of  price.  "  If  a 
thing  is  good,  you  must  pay  for  it,"  he  argued,  and 
delightedly  put  down  his  ten  thousand  pounds  as  a 
beginning  of  operations.  Friedenhof  was  an  old  Dutch 
house,  large  and  roomy;  but  Johnnie's  views  were 
larger.  He  began  to  expend  some  of  the  enterprise 
which  had  stood  him  in  good  stead  "Between  the 
Chains  "  in  adding  embellishments  to  his  house,  until 
the  original  structure  began  to  have  the  scandalised 
air  of  an  old  lady  tricked  out  in  juvenile  garments. 
When  Beau  Livingston  first  drifted  into  Wynberg 
society,  and  stayed  there  awhile  to  laugh  at  it,  he 
found  Johnnie  Dodd  adding  a  large  billiard-room  to 
his  west  wing  with  immense  energy,  and  stated  his 
opinion  with  beautiful  directness. 

"  Johnnie,  you  are  a  Goth  !  " 

"  Don't  care  if  I  am  !  "  said  Johnnie,  airily,  in  the 
high  windy  voice  which  surprised  strangers  from  his 
large  solid  person.  "  1  go  in  for  comfort  and  conven- 
ience." And  he  went  on  building. 

"  Johnnie,"  said  Beau,  serenely,  "  you  are  a  fool !  " 

Johnnie  Dodd  stopped  building,  and  considered  the 
proposition.  It  touched  the  question  of  price,  for  ii 
he  were  a  fool,  he  might  be  damaging  the  market  value 
of  his  property. 

"  You  have  got  a  singularly  curious  and  interesting 


72  The  Story  of  Eden 

Dutch  house,"  said  Livingston.  "Something  of  a 
unique  specimen,  with  a  value  that  money  cannot 
produce,  though  it  can  buy  it  once  made.  You  are 
busy  now  adding  anachronisms  in  the  way  of  glass 
houses  and  hot  water  pipes,  and  are  depreciating  your 
own  property." 

"  Just  what  I  began  to  fear  !  "  said  Johnnie,  rubbing 
his  hair  up  on  end.  "  But  I  want  to  play  billiards  and 
to  have  my  hot  bath." 

"Then  play  billiards  and  bathe,  but  do  not  build 
brand-new  rooms  to  do  these  things  in.  The  house 
is  far  too  large  for  you  and  your  wife  now,  and  even 
when  your  daughter  comes  home  from  school  she  can- 
not occupy  more  than  a  suite  of  rooms.  Use  that 
which  you  have,  and  alter  to  suit  your  convenience ; 
but  with  due  respect  to  the  Dutchmen,  who  knew  far 
better  how  to  build  for  the  climate  than  you  do." 

So  Johnnie  stayed  his  hand,  and  devoted  his  inven- 
tive mind  to  adapting  modern  luxuries  to  old  stability, 
in  such  a  cunning  fashion  that  it  should  not  jar  on 
antiquarians.  He  introduced  a  marble  bath  and  elec- 
tric light,  and  he  kept  his  glass  houses  out  in  the 
grounds  that  they  should  not  stare  in  on  his  cool, 
vast  drawing-rooms  under  the  impertinent  guise  of 
conservatories.  A  year  later,  Starling  came  home  from 
school  in  Switzerland,  and  Johnnie  had  again  to  be 
restrained  from  breaking  out  in  a  new  direction. 

"  I  must  have  a  room  where  the  little  girl  can 
dance,"  he  expostulated  with  Beau.  "  And  what 's 
the  good  of  all  those  tiles?" 

"  Very  well,  then  have  a  parquet  floor  that  you  can 
put  down  over  the  tiles  which  are  the  original  flooring 
of  such  houses  as  Friedenhof,  and  which  it  is  sacrilege 
to  dig  up.  You  '11  have  to  pay  for  it,  and  that  will 
please  you,"  said  Livingston. 

The  Millionaire  put  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  and 
was  content. 


The  Story  of  Eden  73 

Starling's  own  rooms  made  another  outlet  for  her 
father's  expenditure.  She  was  the  only  child,  and 
adored  by  both  parents,  from  whom  she  fortunately 
inherited  enough  good  sense  and  simplicity  of  character 
to  prevent  her  being  unbearably  spoilt.  She  was  a 
little  person  who  liked  knick-knacks,  and  the  objects 
of  "  bigotry  and  virtue  "  in  her  "  den "  would  have 
furnished  a  museum. 

True  was  always  making  or  arranging  or  putting  up 
something  for  Starling,  a  process  which  involved  his 
being  in  and  out  of  Friedenhof  so  perpetually  that  no 
one  minded  him  any  more  than  the  household  cat,  and 
Mr.  Johnnie  hardly  troubled  to  treat  him  as  a  visitor 
when  he  met  him  on  his  own  doorstep. 

"  Hulloa,  my  boy  !  "  he  would  say,  patting  the  little 
Captain  on  the  back  with  a  huge  hand.  "  Have  I  seen 
you  before  to-day?  I  really  forget.  Are  you  going  in 
to  see  the  womenkind?" 

"  Is  Mrs.  Johnnie  in,  sir?"  True  would  smile. 

"  If  she  is  n't,  Starling  is,"  Mr.  Johnnie  would  reply. 
"  Come  and  have  a  game  of  billiards  with  me  when 
you  're  tired  of  petticoats.  I  'm  just  going  through  the 
grounds  to  see  that  those  lazy  niggers  are  keeping 
things  up  as  I  told  them  !  " 

Whereupon  True  would  conduct  himself  into  the 
hospitably  open  house  and  through  the  corridors  to 
Starling's  domains,  where  he  gave  a  peculiar  double 
knock  of  which  no  one  else  knew  the  secret.  True 
and  Starling  had  a  code  of  signals,  which  was  no  doubt 
a  great  convenience  to  them.  They  had  known  each 
other  just  about  a  year  when  Margery  Cunningham 
came  to  Wynberg,  which  was  equal  to  a  seven  years' 
acquaintance  at  Home.  A  shifting  population  forces 
an  intimacy  of  years  to  be  condensed  into  a  few  months. 
Under  these  circumstances  the  hothouse  intimacies  of 
the  Colony  are  understandable,  and  a  whole  life's 
experience  in  England  may  be  condensed  into  a 
year  or  so 


74  The  Story  of  Eden 

True  appeared  at  Friedenhof  in  his  usual  fashion 
one  afternoon  that  summer,  and  finding  the  hall  door 
open,  and  no  one  about,  he  walked  in  without  ringing 
the  bell.  It  was  only  about  a  week  since  he  had  nailed 
up  Madge's  roses,  and  spoken  to  Mrs.  Drysdale  about 
her.  Now  he  had  his  reasons  for  wishing  to  speak  to 
Starling.  He  did  not  meet  Mr.  Johnnie  as  he  half  ex- 
pected, so  he  went  straight  to  Starling's  domains,  and 
knocked  at  the  outer  door.  Starling  was  at  home  in 
her  nest,  and  said,  "  Come  in,  True." 

"What  is  the  Lady  doing?"  said  True,  as  he  came 
in  smiling.  All  the  sunshine  of  the  outer  world  seemed 
to  be  shining  darkly  in  his  eyes,  and  he  looked  particu- 
larly radiant  as  he  sat  down  beside  the  writing-table 
where  Starling  was  dimly  discernible  amongst  a  forest 
of  papers. 

"  Writing  invitations.  Mother  is  giving  a  moonlight 
picnic  next  week.  Take  a  pen  and  address  the  en- 
velopes, True." 

True  moved  his  chair  closer  to  the  scribe,  and  es- 
tablishing himself  as  near  as  circumstances  would  per- 
mit, he  set  to  work. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Forrester,"  he  read,  sotto  voce.  "  Shall  I 
address  Pete's  to  Camp,  or  to  the  Cottage,  Lady?" 

"The  Cottage.  And  there's  Edith  Hofman's  — 
better  do  the  pair  together." 

True  smiled  under  his  moustache,  and  wrote  the  en- 
velopes. 

"  Next,  please,  — '  Beaumont  Livingston  '  —  what  is 
that  you  are  tearing  up?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing  —  only  yours.  I  did  n't  know  you 
would  come  to-day,  so  I  just  wrote  it  to  be  on  the  safe 
side." 

"  I  don 't  count,"  said  True,  sweetly.  "  But  let  me 
have  my  invitation,  please  !  I  sha'n't  come  if  you 
don't." 

"  Well  you  may  as  well  have  it,  for  the  date  and  the 


The  Story  of  Eden  75 

meeting  place.  Go  on,  True  —  how  lazy  you  are ! 
Polly  Harbord  and  Mr.  Tullock.  We  are  going  to  put 
him  up,  he  can't  get  back  to  Simon's  Town  the  same 
night,  —  and  the  Cunninghams,  and  the  Drysdales. 
There,  be  quick  !  " 

"Does  Miss  Cunningham  cycle?"  asked  True,  very 
busy  with  the  addresses. 

"  Yes,  but  not  well  enough  to  ride  a  long  distance,  and 
besides  she  has  n't  a  machine.  I  expect  they  will  ride." 

"She  has  been  riding  with  you  lately,  hasn't  she?" 

"  Not  now,"  said  Starling,  dryly.  "  She  has  found 
some  one  else  to  ride  with,  I  think." 

True  bit  the  penholder  thoughtfully,  and  looked  at 
the  pile  of  letters.  "  Are  n't  you  going  to  ride  together 
any  more  ?  "  he  said. 

Starling  could  not  be  said  to  be  bad-tempered,  but 
she  was  occasionally  testy.  "That  depends  a  good 
deal  on  our  mutual  convenience,  I  should  think,"  she 
said.  When  she  was  annoyed,  the  little  lisp  in  her 
voice  became  intensified. 

True  dipped  the  pen  in  the  ink.  "  It  might  be  kind 
to  ride  with  her  —  as  she  is  a  stranger  in  a  strange 
land,"  he  said  tentatively. 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  offer  yourself  as  escort. 
If  you  don't  some  one  else  will !  "  said  Starling,  tossing 
over  a  loose  sheet.  "  There 's  another  envelope  to  ad- 
dress —  Major  Vibart's." 

"The  Tracker  doesn't  cycle!"  said  True,  with  a 
sigh. 

"  Look  here,"  said  Starling,  with  a  sudden  effort,  "  I 
can  ask  Mrs.  Cromo  Dame." 

True's  eyes  met  hers  and  flashed  something  unde- 
cipherable. The  code  of  signals  was  not  confined  to 
sounds  or  movements.  "  Your  mother  does  not  like 
her,"  he  remarked. 

"  Neither  do  I — but  Major  Vibart  does." 

"  She  looks  very  well  in  her  riding  habit,"  said  True, 


76  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  She  is  a  work  of  art  in  any  costume,"  said  Starling. 
"  The  only  '  bon  mot '  of  Mr.  Forrester's  that  I  ever 
treasured  was  when  he  said  he  could  not  at  first  remem- 
ber her  double  name,  but  he  always  called  her  Mrs. 
Hand-painted  Lady  in  his  own  mind." 

"  It  was  rather  a  neat  paraphrase,"  True  acknow- 
ledged. "  I  don't  think  she  is  a  bad  sort,  you  know. 
She  was  very  kind  when  the  Drysdale  kids  had  the 
hooping-cough.  She  was  always  sending  fruit  down  to 
them." 

"  The  crumbs  from  the  rich  man's  table,"  said  Star- 
ling, with  a  sniff.  "  I  hope  the  Drysdales  like  charity. 
However,  I  will  ask  her,  and  she  will  come.  She  looks 
particularly  well  by  moonlight ;  the  moon  is  generous, 
and  almost  as  kind  to  passee  women  as  pink-shaded 
lamps." 

"Then  I  shall  cycle,"  was  all  True  said,  irrelevantly. 

Starling  cycled ;  but  she  knew  that  True  had  hovered 
on  the  brink  of  sacrificing  himself  in  his  usual  fashion, 
and  riding,  in  order  to  act  as  bodyguard  to  Madge,  and 
the  relief  in  his  voice  rang  sweetly  in  her  ears. 

Mrs.  Johnnie  Dodd  had  fixed  her  picnic  for  the  night 
of  the  full  moon,  —  probably  the  last  moon  of  the  sum- 
mer weather.  She  palpitated  with  anxiety  all  that  day, 
for  a  South- Easter  had  arisen,  and  the  world  was  an  evil 
combination  of  discomfort  and  red  dust.  "  If  it  blows 
like  this  it  will  be  perfectly  impossible  to  cycle,"  she 
said  to  Starling  twenty  times  at  least,  and  bemoaned 
her  fate  that  such  a  wind  should  have  cursed  her  in 
March.  "  I  really  thought  I  could  calculate  that  the 
last  of  them  had  gone  down  with  the  February  drought," 
she  said.  "  Why,  we  have  even  had  a  little  rain, — 
enough  to  make  the  roads  good,  and  almost  autumn 
weather  up  till  now." 

"Never  mind,"  returned  Starling,  dimpling  over  a 
pyramid  of  sandwiches.  "  If  we  can't  cycle,  we  will 
ride  or  drive.  No  one  will  care,  so  long  as  you  let  them 


77 

eat  their  supper  on  the  grass  and  play  at  chuck-half- 
penny afterwards  !  " 

Poor  Mrs.  Johnnie  sighed,  and  ordered  marzipan  and 
venison  patties  despondently.  With  the  sunset,  how- 
ever, the  wind  fell,  and  her  spirits  rose.  Mrs.  Johnnie's 
own  face  was  something  like  the  full  moon,  and  when  the 
clouds  did  not  obscure  it,  it  beamed  with  a  mild  and  radi- 
ant light.  The  hampers  were  packed  into  the  Cape  carts, 
and  Mrs.  Johnnie  took  her  place  alongside,  as  the  clock 
pointed  to  ten  minutes  to  eight.  Mr.  Johnnie  and 
Starling  had  gone  on  before,  a  large  black  blot  and  a 
small  black  blot  upon  the  moonlight,  skimming  on  in- 
visible wheels  a  foot  or  so  above  the  sleepy  red  earth. 
Mr.  Johnnie's  machine  had  been  built  for  him ;  it  was 
necessary  to  mount  his  seventeen  stone  on  a  weight- 
carrier,  but  he  rode  up  and  down  hill  valiantly,  with  the 
dim  hope  of  some  day  acquiring  a  lighter  machine. 

The  party  assembled  at  the  entrance  of  Main's 
Avenue  from  the  high  road,  blocking  the  traffic  and 
drawing  a  native  audience  to  stand  and  stare ;  truly  it 
was  an  awe-inspiring  calvacade :  a  dozen  cycles,  six 
saddle  horses,  two  Cape  carts,  six  hampers,  and  Mrs. 
Johnnie.  When  the  Cunninghams  arrived  on  the  scene, 
all  the  party  had  assembled  save  three,  the  Drysdales 
and  Beaumont  Livingston,  and  as  soon  as  these  lag- 
gards appeared,  it  started. 

"  You  had  better  let  me  go  in  front  with  the  pro- 
visions," said  Mrs.  Johnnie  from  the  cart.  "  That  will 
give  me  time  to  see  that  the  farm  people  set  the  tables 
properly.  Why,  Mrs.  Drysdale,  I  thought  you  were 
going  to  cycle  !  " 

"  I  never  ride  a  dead  horse  when  I  can  have  a  live 
one,"  Clarice  Drysdale's  voice  rang  cheerily  in  the 
black  shadow  of  the  firs.  The  bugles  announcing  rein- 
forcements to  the  rescue  would  never  sound  sweeter  in 
Truman's  ears  than  did  her  well-known  tones.  If  ever 
his  big  eyes  expressed  anything,  they  expressed  grati- 


78  The  Story  of  Eden 

tude  then.  She  also  had  thought  beforehand  of  the 
probable  disposition  of  the  party.  "  You  are  of  one 
mind  with  me,  I  see,  Madge.  Ah,  Professor,  so  you 
really  have  been  tempted  from  your  beetles?  Are 
you  going  to  ride  with  me?  How  d'ye  do,  Mrs. 
Cromo  Dame,  saw  you  in  the  village  this  morning, 
but  you  didn't  see  me." 

"  Really  ?    Where  was  that  ?  " 

Mrs.  Drysdale  did  not  answer;  she  was  chatting 
gaily  with  the  Professor,  who  looked  anything  but  the 
accepted  type  of  a  man  of  science.  His  horse  and 
himself  were  irreproachable,  and  he  was  pleasantly  con- 
scious of  being  the  best  dressed  man  present,  except 
perhaps  Major  Vibart.  This  knowledge  made  him 
passingly  gracious,  even  to  his  sister,  whom  he  advised 
to  look  out  for  mole-holes  when  they  came  to  the  Flats, 
and  then  handed  her  over  to  Oswald  Drysdale's  com- 
panionship. Madge  had  turned  to  look  at  the  woman 
to  whom  Mrs.  Drysdale  had  spoken.  She  had  never 
met  Mrs.  Cromo  Dame  before,  and  her  glance  was 
inclusive.  The  lady  represented,  in  profile,  a  sug- 
gested double  chin  and  a  developed  bust.  As  the 
cavalcade  strung  itself  out  across  the  tram-lines  and 
down  towards  Kenilworth,  she  passed  Madge,  laughing 
and  talking  with  Vibart,  and  displayed  herself  as  a 
woman  with  rippled  red  hair  and  a  too  white  skin,  — 
a  woman  of  velvet  flesh  and  art  colouring,  impossible 
to  believe  in,  but  not  impossible  to  admire,  as  one 
admires  the  painted  flowers  on  a  deep  pile  carpet. 

"She  is  well  over  thirty,  and  I  have  seen  many 
duplicates  of  her  in  town,"  thought  Madge.  "In  the 
Park,  in  Regent  Street,  shopping  in  Piccadilly,  always 
fat,  and  made  up,  and  —  yes  —  lovely  to  look  at  if  one 
doesn't  go  too  close.  Does  he  admire  that  sort  of 
thing,  I  wonder?  I  suppose  that  is  why  they  call  him 
fast,  because  he  talks  to  her,  and  she  paints,  —  and  I 
daresay  she  is  clever.  I  don't  see  why  he  should  n't 


The  Story  of  Eden  79 

talk  to  her  if  he  likes.  She  is  probably  far  more  enter- 
taining to  a  man  of  the  world  than  any  one  else  here. 
Oh,  dear,  and  I  thought  I  was  going  to  enjoy  to-night 
so  much,  and  now  I  am  afraid  I  am  not !  " 

"  I  wonder  what  she  is  thinking  about  to  make  her 
so  silent  ?  "  cogitated  Drysdale.  "  Shall  we  ride  on  a 
little  faster,  Miss  Cunningham?"  he  said.  "We  shall 
get  a  nice  smooth  bit  for  a  canter  in  a  minute." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Margery,  rousing  herself.    "  Yes,  let  us." 

There  is  nothing  so  awake  as  an  African  night.  All 
day  the  earth  drowses  in  the  sunshine ;  but  when  the  light 
dies,  she  wakes  up,  and  whispers  to  herself  all  through 
the  darkness.  As  the  hoofs  flew  over  the  soft,  sandy 
roads,  the  wind  made  little  noises  in  the  branches  of 
the  trees,  which  muttered  together,  "We  know,  we 
know,"  in  answer ;  and  when  the  party  broke  out  into 
the  wide,  waving  grass-lands,  the  sound  of  their  going 
could^  hardly  overpower,  even  to  themselves,  the  thrill 
of  life  innumerable  on  the  Flats.  At  the  end  of  half 
a  mile,  Madge  drew  rein ;  the  rest  of  the  party  were 
somewhat  scattered,  near  and  far,  about  the  intermin- 
able silver  sweep  of  the  grasses,  intersected  by  the  level 
roads  on  which  the  cyclists  looked  like  flies  in  the 
distance. 

"  Let  us  walk  a  little  now,"  she  said.  "  I  want  to 
look  about  me ;  it  is  all  so  beautiful." 

"  Yes,  I  always  think  the  night  is  the  best  time  to 
see  the  country.  In  the  day  one  wants  to  sit  under 
one's  own  vine  and  fig-tree  and  bask.  Hear  the 
crickets?  " 

The  air  was  full  of  their  busy  voices,  like  the  whirr 
of  a  vast  fairy  machinery.  Every  now  and  then  some- 
thing would  rustle,  whether  overhead  or  underfoot 
Madge  could  not  tell,  but  the  whole  empty  night,  the 
straight,  level  grass  of  the  Flats,  only  swelling  a  little 
up  and  down  in  black  and  silver  heights  and  hollows 
to  the  mountain  range,  and  the  solitude  of  the  infinite 


8o  The  Story  of  Eden 

sky,  seemed  thrilling  with  their  own  spirit  and  mystery. 
They  rode  in  comparative  silence,  with  disjointed  con- 
versation now  and  then  to  mark  their  sociability,  until 
a  lonely  belt  of  dark  trees  became  visible  in  a  curve  of 
hollow  ground  to  their  right,  and,  "  That  is  the  farm  !  " 
Drysdale  said. 

The  bustle  and  life,  and  the  laughing  and  talking 
under  the  trees  seemed  an  incongruous  contrast  to  the 
silent  silver  night  beyond,  when  Madge  rode  into  the 
party  again.  Two  long  tables  were  set  up  in  the  plan- 
tation behind  the  farm,  with  wooden  forms  to  seat  the 
guests  after  the  manner  of  a  school-feast.  The  moon 
shone  broadly  down  upon  the  white  cloth  and  the 
Dodds'  glass  and  silver,  while  the  generous  load  of 
provisions  would  have  victualled  a  small  army. 

"  I  shall  steal  the  supper  soon,  if  we  don't  sit  down," 
remarked  Livingston,  genially.  "  Mrs.  Johnnie,  I  think 
you  would  like  me  to  carve.  Miss  Cunningham,  you 
would  like  to  sit  beside  me,  I  know.  Are  we  all  here? 
What  are  we  waiting  for,  you  and  I  ?  " 

"  All  except  Vibart  and  Mrs.  Cromo  Dame,"  said 
Forrester.  "Shall  we  wait  for  them,  Mrs.  Johnnie? 
Or  —  "  he  lowered  his  voice  and  spoke  to  Livingston 
— "  shall  we  do  as  her  husband  is  reported  to  have 
done  at  the  marriage  ceremony,  and  begin  without 
her?  They  say  it  was  hardly  legal." 

"  Well,"  returned  Livingston,  in  the  same  tone,  "  if 
she  were  not  worth  waiting  for  then,  she  certainly  is 
not  now.  Jack  will  have  to  take  care  of  her,  and  she 
will  have  to  take  care  of  herself."  He  turned  to 
Margery  suddenly,  "The  moon  has  not  stolen  your 
appetite,  has  it,  Miss  Cunningham  ?  " 

"Is  the  moon  a  universal  thief?"  said  Margery, 
gaily,  as  she  took  her  place.  At  least  she  would  not 
notice  the  absentees,  she  thought ;  when  they  did  arrive, 
she  would  be  fathoms  deep  in  her  supper  and  Living- 
ston's conversation. 


The  Story  of  Eden  81 

"  She  has  not  stolen  the  colour  of  your  eyes,  at  any 
rate,"  he  said,  with  the  assumed  courtesy  of  an  old 
man  towards  a  child.  "  Now  what  shall  I  have  for 
supper?  What  do  you  think  would  amuse  me?" 

"  I  am  too  concerned  with  my  own  to  think  of  yours 
as  yet.  Is  that  caviare  ?  I  love  caviare  !  " 

"  Dissipated  little  girl,  what  a  vitiated  taste  !  Sup- 
pose I  begin  with  caviare  too  ?  It  gives  one  an  appe- 
tite, I  have  heard.  What  will  you  drink?  Champagne, 
of  course.  Pass  the  champagne,  Pete.  There  is  quite 
a  slump  in  fizz  down  this  end  of  the  table." 

"Are  you  going  to  have  some  too,  Mr.  Livingston? 
I  wish  you  would  n't  eat  and  drink  exactly  what  I  do. 
You  have  followed  me  throughout,  and  it  begins  to 
make  me  quite  nervous." 

"  I  am  a  little  doubtful  of  Johnnie's  food,  and  I 
would  rather  you  were  poisoned  than  I,  if  some  one 
must  go.  Besides  which  it  entertains  me  to  see  what 
you  eat,  and  to  risk  it  for  once.  Everything  you  have 
chosen  as  yet  has  been  entirely  unfortunate." 

"  You  seem  to  be  as  easily  entertained,  as  the  man 
who  used  to  take  off  his  wife's  wedding-ring  whenever 
he  wanted  a  little  excitement.  He  must  have  had 
such  a  very  simple  mind." 

"Or  an  admirable  memory — I  should  say  imagina- 
tion. But  what  a  very  naughty  little  speech  for  you  to 
make  !  Have  some  more  champagne  —  I  feel  that 
you  oughtn't  to  be  encouraged.  Ah,  here  are  the 
truants.  My  dear  Vibart,  we  have  finished  most  of  the 
pink  food,  which  is  always  the  best  (have  you  ever 
noticed  that  in  a  menu,  Miss  Cunningham?),  but  there 
is  still  some  white  and  brown  left." 

"We  lost  our  way  —  we  did  really,"  Vibart  said, 
joining  good-humouredly  in  the  laughter  and  chaff 
which  greeted  him.  Mrs.  Cromo  Dame  did  not  laugh. 
Her  sharply-defined  red  lips  smiled  a  little,  and  she 
shot  a  glance  down  the  table  as  she  sat  down  and 
6 


82  The  Story  of  Eden 

said,  "  Turkey,  please  ! "  to  Mr.  Johnnie's  solicitous 
appeal. 

"  What  a  disreputable-looking  woman  she  would  be 
if  she  were  not  so  smart  in  her  clothes ! "  Polly  Har- 
bord  remarked  quietly  to  Starling.  Polly's  keen, 
sleepy  eyes  had  taken  in  every  line  of  Mrs.  Cromo 
Dame  as  she  sat  down,  and  were  still  fixed  musingly 
upon  her,  "She  bears  the  stamp  of  her  type  too 
plainly  upon  her." 

"Yes,"  said  Starling,  briefly.  It  was  one  of  her 
peculiarities  that  she  rarely  discussed  people  she  did 
not  like,  not  entirely  from  charity,  but  partly  because 
she  did  not  care  to  let  her  thoughts  dwell  upon  them 
at  all. 

"  Did  you  hear  the  last  story  about  her?  " 

"  No.  Take  care !  Captain  Truman  will  catch 
what  you  say  !  " 

"  No,  he  won't,  he  is  too  busy  lighting  his  cigarette. 
You  know  Cromo  Dame  went  shooting  a  week  ago,  and 
was  not  to  return  until  Monday  morning.  Well,  he 
turned  up  unexpectedly  on  the  Sunday  night,  and  his 
wife  had  got  a  supper-party  consisting  of  one.  As  it 
happened  Cromo  Dame  met  the  supper-party  on  the 
doorstep,  just  going  in,  and  the  Tracker  said  —  " 

"  Oh  ! " 

"  Well,  you  must  have  known  who  it  was !  He  ts 
clever;  he  had  just  three  seconds  to  collect  himself. 
He  said,  '  My  dear  fellow,  I  saw  your  cart  at  the 
station,  and  I  guessed  you  had  come  back.  I  just 
came  round  to  see  how  you  had  fared.  Did  you  have 
good  sport  ?  '  Cromo  Dame,  who  is  either  very  deep 
or  very  unsuspicious,  asked  him  to  supper.  So  the 
preparations  were  not  entirely  wasted  after  all.  But 
don't  you  think  the  Tracker  deserves  to  get  on?" 

"  I  hope  he  will  never  get  what  he  deserves.  At 
least  I  have  that  much  charity.  But,  Polly,  how  do 
you  know  these  things?" 


The  Story  of  Eden  83 

"  Oh,  Blanche  Cromo  Dame  absolutely  told  me  her- 
self. You  know  she  is  very  outspoken.  How  smart 
the  Professor  looks  !  He  is  an  unusual  sort  of  man. 
I  was  so  surprised  to  see  him  here  to-night." 

"We  had  several  surprises.  How  complicated 
everything  seems  just  now  !  I  am  constantly  expect- 
ing something  to  happen.  Only  the  safeguard  of  our 
life  out  here  is  that  none  of  us  stay  long  enough  for 
things  to  reach  a  crisis." 

"  It  is  the  wives  and  husbands  who  are  complicated," 
said  Polly,  with  a  little  laugh,  as  she  rose  from  the  sup- 
per-table. "  Mr.  Forrester  says  he  finds  it  almost  as 
difficult  to  sort  them  properly  now  as  they  seem  to  find 
it  themselves.  Are  we  going  to  play  games?  Do 
let's  have  Blindman's  Buff,  or  Hunt  the  Slipper,  or 
something  really  silly,  Starling !  I  like  to  laugh  one 
day  in  seven,  and  Mrs.  Wrighton  has  sighed  and 
groaned  all  this  afternoon." 

"  Poor  Polly  !  I  am  afraid  Blindman's  Buff  won't 
do,  though.  Edith  Hofman  fell  down  last  time  and 
twisted  her  ankle  by  tripping  over  the  root  of  a  tree. 
We  can  play  Tags,  if  you  like." 

Tags  was  a  new  game  to  Margery,  as  was  also  the 
spectacle  of  twenty  grown-up  people  rushing  to  and 
fro  with  far  more  zest  than  a  party  of  children,  waking 
the  quiet  night  with  their  voices  and  laughter,  and 
charging  into  each  other's  arms  to  avoid  being  caught 
by  the  pursuer  as  they  were  chased  from  one  tag  to 
another.  A  tag,  she  discovered,  consisted  of  two 
people,  a  girl  standing  in  front  of  a  man  who  generally 
placed  his  hands  on  her  waist  to  steady  her.  She 
found  herself  in  this  position,  one  of  eight  couples, 
with  Clive  Forrester  behind  her ;  Oswald  Drysdale  was 
the  pursuer,  or  "  Devil,"  and  Polly  Harbord,  "  Odd 
Man  Out."  It  was  Polly's  business  in  starting  the 
game,  to  try  and  reach  one  of  the  tags,  which  were 
stationed  at  equal  distances  from  her  and  from  each 


84  The  Story  of  Eden 

other,  before  she  was  caught  herself.  If  she  could  do 
this,  and  station  herself  in  front  of  the  girl,  the  man 
behind  became  "  Odd  Man  Out,"  and  had  to  run  for 
it  in  his  turn.  And  so  on  and  so  forth,  with  more 
noise  and  scuffling  than  at  the  ordinary  school-feast. 
More  licence,  too,  for  dignity  vanished  in  the  heat  of 
the  game,  and  men  forgot  their  manners  if  not  their 
preferences.  Mrs.  Johnnie  did  not  play,  but  all  the 
other  women  did,  in  spite  of  riding-habits  or  other 
drawbacks.  It  was  nothing  to  Madge  to  rush  across 
a  moonlit  space  of  grass  about  twelve  feet  wide,  for 
she  was  young  and  light  and  active,  and  even  her  habit 
could  not  impede  her.  She  was  difficult  to  catch,  and 
knew  that  she  showed  to  advantage  over  Mrs.  Cromo 
Dame,  who,  with  panting  breast  and  hysterical  laughter, 
hurled  herself  into  the  men's  arms,  for  she  generally 
seemed  to  chance  upon  those  tags  which  had  been 
shifted  so  that  it  was  not  a  girl  who  stood  in  front.  It 
was  a  relief  to  Madge  to  remember,  when  the  fun  was 
at  its  loudest,  that  her  brother  had  gone  off  to  smoke 
with  Mr.  Johnnie  and  talk  "  trade,"  before  the  game 
began.  She  would  have  been  afraid  to  run,  and  call 
out  warnings  to  others  in  danger,  if  Anthony  had  been 
standing  by,  in  sneering  contemplation  of  antics  about 
which,  as  she  well  knew,  he  would  express  an  unmodi- 
fied opinion  next  day.  As  it  was  she  laughed,  and 
ran,  and  made  as  much  noise  as  any  of  them,  when  the 
cry  came,  "  Miss  Cunningham,  you  're  out  —  run  ! " 
and  she  saw  the  "  Devil "  dodging  on  the  other  side  of 
the  tag.  It  was  in  a  headlong  rush  from  behind  Beau- 
mont Livingston  and  Polly  Harbord  that  the  pursuer 
doubled  and  met  her  before  she  could  reach  another 
tag.  Madge  gave  a  shriek  of  excitement,  and  turning 
fell  into  the  first  pair  of  arms  she  saw. 

"  Take  care,  Lady  !  "  said  True,  catching  her  deftly, 
and  holding  her  as  daintily  as  if  she  had  been  a  but- 
terfly, even  while  he  smiled  into  her  eyes.  "  Miss 
Hofman,  you  are  out." 


The  Story  of  Eden  85 

Edith  Hofman  fled  from  behind  him,  and  Madge 
stood  still,  panting. 

"  Oh,  True,  this  is  a  dreadful  game  ! "  she  said  laugh- 
ing. "  I  am  so  glad  it  was  you." 

"  I  am  glad  too.  I  don't  count.  Stand  steady, 
there  is  going  to  be  a  rush,  and  two  people  think  they 
are  <  Odd  Man  Out.'  " 

This  indeed  had  happened,  and  the  next  three  min- 
utes were  lively  with  the  shrieking,  flying  figures  of 
pursued  and  pursuer.  Madge  stood  her  ground,  know- 
ing that  she  was  within  the  rules,  but  during  the  scrim- 
mage she  was  conscious  that  True  had  been  swept  away, 
and  a  woman — Polly  Harbord,  she  thought — had  taken 
his  place  behind  her,  which  was  of  course  all  wrong. 
Then  Polly  was  shifted,  and  a  man's  hands  seized  her 
waist  again  with  a  stronger  grip  than  True's. 

"  Stand  still,  —  you  are  quite  safe,"  said  Vibart's 
voice  in  her  ear.  It  had  the  intoxicated  sound  of 
laughter  and  high  spirits  and  excitement,  and  Madge 
shrank  from  it,  frightened,  and  from  his  warm  breath 
on  her  neck. 

"Major  Vibart,  is  it  you?"  she  tried  to  say. 
"  Don't  "  —  it  was  impossible  to  free  herself  of  the 
hands  pressing  her  waist  —  "  Don't  you  think  we  have 
played  enough  ?  Every  one  is  getting  tired.  I  think 
I  shall  stand  out." 

"  They  will  stop  in  a  minute  —  there 's  going  to  be  a 
rush.  Forrester,  that 's  not  fair,"  he  shouted  over 
Madge's  head,  startling  her  afresh  with  the  loud  tones. 
She  had  a  horrible  feeling  that  he  had  lost  his  head, 
and  anything  might  happen,  and  a  resentful  remem- 
brance of  his  devotion  to  Mrs.  Cromo  Dame  up  till 
now.  She  had  meant  to  be  dignified  and  indifferent  if 
she  did  come  in  contact  with  him,  but  the  coming  in 
contact  had  not  been  quite  so  physical  in  her  imagi- 
nation, and  it  is  difficult  to  be  dignified  over  one's 
shoulder  to  some  one  very  much  taller  who  must  bend 


86  The  Story  of  Eden 

down  to  hear.  There  came  a  rush  of  the  younger 
men,  who  were  romping  together  like  young  puppies, 
and  were  equally  out  of  control,  and  Vibart  hastily  put 
his  arms  round  the  girl  in  front  of  him  to  protect  her. 
It  was  really  necessary,  for  the  horseplay  threatened  to 
become  too  rough  for  safety,  and  one  of  the  players 
came  rather  heavily  to  the  ground.  Then  the  game 
was  over,  and  Margery  extricated  herself  with  a  new 
feeling  of  distaste. 

"  How  detestable  !  "  she  said  to  herself,  as  she  and 
Starling  smoothed  each  other's  ruffled  plumes.  "  And 
the  worst  of  it  was,  I  had  to  accept  it  and  say  nothing. 
I  wonder  if  any  one  saw,  and  what  they  thought  ?  Well, 
I  really  could  n't  help  it,  and  to  do  him  justice  I  don't 
think  he  could  either.  If  only  it  had  been  True  !  I 
won't  ride  home  with  him  whatever  happens.  I  don't 
suppose  he  wants  to,  but  anyhow  I  'm  not  going  to  be 
treated  like  that  —  neglected  all  the  evening,  and  then 
suddenly  taken  liberties  with  because  the  man  gets  ex- 
cited over  a  game.  Thank  goodness,  I  have  arranged  to 
spend  to-morrow  with  Mrs.  Drysdale,  and  I  sha'n't  have 
to  see  him,  even  though  he  should  chance  to  call." 

"  We  can't  have  another  game,  it  is  getting  too  late," 
Starling  said,  as  she  tucked  in  a  little  wisp  of  Madge's 
hair.  "  The  hampers  are  being  packed  up  now.  Is  n't 
it  a  nuisance,  True's  cycle  has  punctured,  and  he  can't 
ride  home !  He  will  have  to  drive  in  one  of  the  carts 
I  suppose." 

Madge  moved  away,  wondering  if  it  would  not  be 
safer  for  her  to  drive  too,  and  if  she  could  pretend  that 
her  pony  had  fallen  lame  to  effect  that  end.  She  was 
horribly  afraid  of  Vibart's  society. 

As  she  mounted,  and  walked  her  pony  slowly  out  of 
the  farm  enclosure,  Mrs.  Johnnie  and  the  carts  passed 
her.  To  Madge's  dismay  she  saw  that  Drysdale  was 
driving,  and  he  turned  and  called  something  to  her  of 
which  all  she  caught  was,  "Sorry  to  desert  you  — 
another  escort." 


The  Story  of  Eden  87 

"Then  we  are  uneven  numbers,"  thought  Madge,  — 
she  had  forgotten  all  about  Truman  and  his  punctured 
bicycle,  —  "  and  I  must  either  ride  with  Anthony  and 
Mrs.  Drysdale,  which  he  won't  like,  or  go  with  the 
cyclists.  Of  course  the  other  couple  who  are  on 
horseback  are  out  of  the  question." 

As  she  quickened  her  pace,  Starling  passed  her,  rid- 
ing with  Livingston.  Madge  did  not  stop  to  consider 
that  here  was  another  change  of  escort ;  she  put  her 
horse  into  a  trot,  with  some  idea  of  catching  them  up 
and  asking  leave  to  join  them.  The  sound  of  hoofs 
behind  her  only  made  her  the  more  anxious ;  without 
turning  to  look  who  it  was  she  changed  from  a  trot  to 
a  canter  and  raced  as  hard  as  she  dared,  with  her  slight 
knowledge  of  riding,  until  the  other  horse  overtook 
her  in  spite  of  her  efforts  to  escape. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  said  True,  breathlessly. 
"  You  are  following  the  road,  and  that  will  take  you 
ever  so  far  round  !  I  've  been  trying  to  catch  you  for 
five  minutes." 

"  I  was  going  to  join  Starling,"  said  Margery,  with 
intense  relief.  "  I  did  not  know  you  were  riding.  I 
went  off  by  myself  in  a  pet,  you  see,  thinking  I  was 
deserted." 

"  You  might  have  known  I  should  n't  desert  you,  Lady. 
Shall  we  have  a  canter?  This  is  a  nice  level  bit." 

On  the  whole,  Margery  enjoyed  the  ride  home 
even  more  than  the  ride  out.  It  was  a  real  relief  to 
her  to  have  True  with  her,  and  she  possessed  the  happy 
faculty  of  putting  a  past  disagreeable  out  of  her  mind 
to  enjoy  a  present  pleasure.  Whether  it  would  be  the 
same  with  a  great  grief  she  had  not  yet  had  occasion 
to  try ;  but  the  little  pin-prick  of  Vibart's  devotion  to 
Mrs.  Cromo  Dame,  and  her  revulsion  of  feeling  with 
regard  to  him,  were  not  sufficient  to  mar  her  enjoyment 
of  the  long  canter  over  the  moonlit  grass,  and  True's 
congenial  companionship.  Margery  liked  True;  he 


88  The  Story  of  Eden 

was  not  brilliant  in  conversation,  or  subtle,  as  Vibart 
could  be  at  times ;  his  air  of  devotion  was  entirely  on 
the  surface,  but  really  genuine  where  he  placed  his 
friendship.  He  never  said  unkind  things,  and  he 
never  offended  a  woman  on  the  plea  of  being  a  man. 
That  much  she  had  discovered  already.  As  she  went 
to  bed  that  night  she  summed  up  her  evening's  experi- 
ences with  great  candour  in  her  own  mind. 

"  Major  Vibart  is  a  flirt  —  I  have  been  told  so  often, 
and  it  is  quite  true.  He  has  been  riding  with  me  for 
a  week  or  two  now,  and  making  me  believe  that  — 
well,  that  he  liked  me  very  much,  and  would  rather 
talk  to  me  than  to  other  people.  To-night  he  has 
looked  at  and  spoken  to  no  one  but  that  woman  with 
the  red  hair  and  the  figure  —  except  once,  and  then  I 
wish  he  had  n't.  It  was  horrid  !  "  (At  this  point  she 
plunged  her  face  and  arms  into  cold  water,  as  if  to  wash 
away  a  remembrance.)  "  It  is  all  my  own  silly  fault  that 
I  felt  humiliated,  because  my  vanity  led  me  into  believ- 
ing that  he  really  meant  the  things  he  hinted.  He 
was  too  clever  to  say  them  absolutely,  I  see  that  now. 
For  the  future,  I  won't  think  anything  of  what  he  says, 
I  will  only  laugh.  And  I  won't  talk  to  him  more  than 
to  other  people,  or  look  upon  him  as  anything  in  partic- 
ular. How  lovely  the  mere  riding  in  the  moonlight 
was  !  I  enjoyed  it  with  my  body,  and  brain,  and  soul. 
I  shall  never  forget  those  great  waving  Flats;  I  felt 
somehow  as  if  I  were  growing,  —  as  if  I  had  found  some- 
thing larger  than  my  own  life,  and  wanted  to  expand  to 
it,  —  I  wonder  if  any  one  else  felt  so  too.  It 's  rather 
lonely  to  have  those  feelings  all  to  myself,  with  no  one 
to  sympathise  and  understand.  What  a  nice  little 
fellow  True  is,  and  how  he  does  flirt  with  his  eyes  ! 
He  never  makes  me  uneasy  though,  as  some  of  the 
other  men  do,  —  Mr.  Livingston,  for  instance.  He  is 
very  amusing,  and  he  makes  me  feel  as  if  I  were  effer- 
vescing somehow.  I  seem  all  fizz  and  froth  and  talk- 


The  Story  of  Eden  89 

ing  nonsense  very  fast  when  I  am  with  him.     Nothing 
matters,    because  nothing   is   real."      (Here  she  took 
down  her  hair,  and  buried   her  face  in  its  soft  thick 
folds.)      "  But    sometimes    he    says    something,    quite 
lightly,  that  might  mean  a  great  deal,  —  terrible  things 
that  I  am  afraid  to  understand,  and  at  which  we  both 
laugh  as  if  we  were  talking  nonsense  still.     I  wonder  — 
I  think  I  will  talk  a  good  deal  to  Mr.  Livingston.     He 
makes  me  feel  as  if  I  had  been  exercising  my  brain, 
and  were  getting  quite  skilful  at  chattering."     (Here 
a  little  white  foot  slipped  out  of  a  velvet  slipper,  and 
Madge  stood,  frilled  and  snowy,  beside  the  bed  for  a 
moment,    before   she    scrambled    in.)     "  He   is  Jack 
Vibart's  friend  too  —  and  they  seem  to  think  a  great 
deal   of  each   other.     I   believe  I  could  attract  Mr. 
Livingston  as   well   as  an  older  woman."     (She   got 
into   bed,  and   cuddled    down  among   the    pillows.) 
"  There,  I  'm  only  wanting   to  do  it  to  make  Major 
Vibart  think  more  of  me,  and  revenge  myself  on  him. 
I  have  come  right  round  to  the  point  I  started  from, 
and  that  I  meant  to  forget.     I  will  go  to  sleep,  and 
think  no  more  about  him,  and  not  be  silly." 


CHAPTER  V 

"  Where  the  apple  reddens 

Never  pry  — 
Lest  we  lose  our  Edens, 
Eve  and  I." 

THEY  boast  at  Newlands  that  they  have  the  prettiest 
cricket  ground  in  the  British  Empire.  I  like  Dover  as 
well,  myself  (I  mean  the  old  School  ground,  which  is  too 
small,  for  the  ball  is  always  going  beyond  the  boundary, 
but  that  does  not  affect  its  picturesqueness)  ;  but  I 
admit  that  the  Newlands  ground  has  the  advantage  of 
a  unique  setting.  A  blue  line  of  mountains  looks  in  on 
you  over  the  fir-tree  belt,  and  the  prospect  from  the 
Stand  —  it  is  something  larger  than  a  view  —  gives 
you  a  chance  to  lose  yourself  in  open  air  and  incalcu- 
able  distance.  The  Saturday  matches  are  very  much 
to  the  neighbourhood  what  the  Corner  is  on  Sunday  to 
those  who  dwell  within  measurable  distance  of  Hyde 
Park,  and  the  string  of  carts  and  carriages  behind  the 
spectators  is  a  settled  institution. 

Mrs.  Drysdale  generally  called  for  Madge  about 
three,  and  drove  her  down.  "  It  is  a  pity  not  to  go, 
for  the  season  will  soon  be  over,"  she  said.  "  Ossy 
will  turn  up  later,  but  I  want  to  get  down  there  in  time 
for  a  good  place,  and  to  see  something  of  the  play.  I 
am  one  of  the  few  women  who  really  watch  the  game. 
The  majority  don't  do  more  than  ask  what  the  score  is 
at  intervals,  and  applaud  in  the  wrong  place." 

She  appeared  on  the  Saturday  following  Mrs.  Johnnie's 
picnic,  and  carried  Madge  off  in  triumph,  despite  the 
agreeable  prophecies  of  the  Professor,  who  came  out  onto 
the  stoep  to  suggest  sunstroke,  mosquitoes,  heat  apo- 
plexy, and  their  being  the  only  people  on  the  ground. 


The  Story  of  Eden  91 

"Your  brother,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Drysdale,  as 
they  drove  away,  "is  as  wholesome  as  a  tonic.  He 
leaves  a  taste  on  my  tongue  like  quinine,  which  I  am 
sure  is  very  good  for  us." 

"  I  wish  his  conversation  had  the  same  effect  when 
taken  in  large  quantities,  and  made  me  deaf, "  re- 
marked Madge,  dryly.  "  He  has  discovered  a  new 
specimen  of  Scarabee,  and  it  makes  him  particularly 
sociable.  He  kept  awake  to  talk  to  me  yesterday 
evening  after  dinner.  When  I  had  swallowed  as  much 
quinine  as  I  thought  good  for  me,  I  retired  in  good 
order  and  went  to  bed." 

"He  always  puts  me  in  mind  of  those  charming 
people  in  the  Bible  who  announced  themselves  as 
prophets  whenever  they  wanted  to  say  nasty  things. 
My  sympathies  are  entirely  with  the  much-abused 
Kings ;  they  had  to  sit  still  and  listen  whenever  an  old 
gentleman  arrived  with  a  parchment,  and  proceeded  to 
insult  them  in  the  name  of  the  Deity.  I  am  sure  the 
Deity  would  never  have  been  so  discourteous,  but  the 
Kings  seem  to  have  been  easily  persuaded,  and  hardly 
dared  to  murder  one  Prophet  in  ten." 

"  Poor  things  !  and  to  annihilate  people  who  cheer- 
fully prognosticate  evil  seems  such  a  natural  outlet  for 
one's  feelings.  Even  proving  them  in  the  wrong  is 
hardly  a  satisfactory  substitute.  I  could  have  attended 
Anthony's  funeral  with  a  certain  degree  of  pleasure  on 
several  occasions." 

"  We  are  about  to  prove  him  in  the  wrong  anyway. 
The  ground  is  crowded  even  now.  I  hope  we  shall  get 
our  usual  place  —  I  feel  personally  injured  if  any  one 
else  is  third  from  the  end  of  the  carriage  line.  All 
right,  Keeper,  I  have  the  passes.  Now,  Bob,  don't  shy 
at  the  band  !  Leaf,  you  had  better  go  to  his  head." 

The  black  boy  dropped  out  of  the  back  of  the  cart, 
and  led  Bob  down  the  row  to  his  usual  station.  Either 
an  unusual  paucity  of  other  attractions,  or  a  fear  that 


gi  The  Story  of  Eden 

this  might  be  the  last  fine  cricket  Saturday  of  the  sum- 
mer, had  drawn  an  unusual  concourse.  The  Stand  was 
full,  the  benches  were  full,  the  traps  were  filing  in  two 
deep,  and  a  moving  mass  of  people  was  blocking  the 
space  between  the  carriages  and  the  refreshment-table. 
Madge  gave  a  sigh  of  pleasure  as  the  Duke's  band 
struck  up  the  "  Gondoliers." 

"  I  like  a  full  meeting,  don't  you?  "  she  said.  "  And 
everybody  we  know  seems  to  be  here.  Who  will  you 
go  to  tea  with,  Mrs.  Drysdale  ?  " 

"  Major  Yeats,  if  I  can  get  hold  of  him.  You  don't 
know  him,  do  you?  He  belongs  to  the  Gunners. 
There  he  is  talking  to  Teddy  Barton." 

"  That  big  man  with  the  eyeglass  ?  He  looks  as  if 
Du  Maurier  had  drawn  him  !  Oh,  there  's  True  —  and 
Mr.  Livingston  —  and  the  Hearns  —  and  everybody  !  " 

"  Don't  fall  out  of  the  cart  with  excitement,  my 
dear,  or  the  wrong  man  might  pick  you  up.  How  are 
you,  Beau?  What  is  the  score,  and  how  is  the  game 
going?  ' 

"  I  decline  to  tell  you.  You  do  not  care  a  jot  for 
the  game  in  reality,  and  only  assume  that  air  of  sport- 
ing interest  for  Yeats'  benefit,  because  you  know  him  to 
be  a  cricketer.  I  shall  tell  Mrs.  Naseby,  who  will  tell 
Forrester,  who  will  tell  it  with  'entirely  new  scenery 
and  dresses,'  to  Mrs.  Cromo  Dame,  who  will  appear 
as  chief  witness  for  the  plaintiff  in  the  Divorce  Court. 
Yeats,  my  dear  fellow,  Mrs.  Drysdale  is  posing  for  your 
benefit.  Come  and  tell  her  it  is  no  use." 

The  man  addressed  put  his  hand  on  the  splash- 
board of  the  cart,  and  began  to  talk,  which  left  Living- 
ston free  to  walk  round  to  the  other  side  and 
Margery. 

"  So  you  have  really  got  here  in  spite  of  the  Pro- 
fessor," he  said,  taking  her  hand.  "  I  met  him  yester- 
day, and  he  told  me  you  were  going  about  far  too 
much,  and  thought  of  nothing  but  young  men  and 


The  Story  of  Eden  93 

the  curling  tongs,  and  he  was  going  to  put  a  stop  to 
it.  It  was  quite  a  surprise  to  see  you  here.  However, 
you  look  very  nice,  and  I  am  going  to  take  you  to 
have  some  tea." 

"  Thank  you  !  Anthony  did  recommend  me  to  stay 
at  home  and  try  to  learn  a  few  domestic  virtues ;  but 
he  has  not  positively  forbidden  the  young  men  and  the 
curling  tongs  as  yet.  Shall  I  get  out  of  the  cart  ?  " 

"  Yes,  come  along."  He  took  her  hands  in  a 
stronger  grasp  than  many  a  man  years  his  junior,  and 
swung  her  lightly  to  the  ground.  "Like  a  bird,"  he 
said  approvingly.  "  Look  at  Mrs.  Cromo  Dame  !  She 
has  got  on  a  new  gown,  and  is  afraid  lest  any  one 
should  miss  it.  She  need  not  fear,  need  she  —  there 
is  too  much  emphasis  about  her  to  escape  notice. 
She  is  a  woman  who  is  written  in  italics.  Still,  to  ease 
her  mind,  we  will  go  and  tell  her  that  we  have  realised 
her  clothes  —  it  is  only  when  she  is  in  evening  dress 
that  one  is  in  danger  of  losing  sight  of  them." 

"  Oh,  no,  please,  Mr.  Livingston,"  said  Margery, 
who  had  heard  only  the  first  part  of  his  sentence,  ana 
recognised  the  man  leaning  on  the  Cromo  Dame  car- 
riage door.  "  I  don't  know  her." 

"  No,  really  ?  You  're  young  —  you  '11  learn.  There 's 
Jack  Vibart  strung  upon  her  parasol  point  now. 
Did  n't  I  see  you  riding  with  him  one  day  this  week?  " 

"  No,"  said  Margery,  thankful  that  she  could  say 
so.  "  I  have  only  ridden  three  times  this  week,  and 
that  was  with  Starling." 

"  It  must  have  been  another  time  then,"  said  Liv- 
ingston, coolly.  "Where  are  Mrs.  Drysdale's  boys 
to-day?  She  really  ought  to  bring  them  with  her 
sometimes.  I  must  speak  to  her.  There  is  hardly 
another  woman  here  who  would  not  use  such  useful 
appendages  as  an  advertisement  of  her  own  domestic 
virtues.  Yet  she  persists  in  leaving  them  at  home, 
because  she  knows  they  are  happier  there,  and 
would  n't  enjoy  this  at  all.  Ridiculous,  is  n't  it !  " 


94  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  How  devoted  she  is  to  those  boys !  And  yet  for 
some  time  after  I  first  knew  her  I  did  not  realise  that 
she  had  any  children." 

"  Not  even  the  baby  ?  I  should  have  thought  it 
difficult  not  to  realise  the  baby.  But  it  must  be  seen 
to  be  believed  in." 

"  Yes,  I  have  seen  it.  It  was  very  good,  and  did  n't 
howl." 

"  It  is  a  most  respectable  baby  altogether,"  said 
Livingston.  "  It  is  exactly  like  Oswald  Drysdale." 

"  Well,  children  often  do  resemble  their  fathers,  don't 
they?" 

"  Exactly,"  he  answered,  with  a  curious  flash  of 
amusement  in  his  brilliant  eyes.  "  It  is  one  of  the  most 
awkward  laws  of  nature." 

"  If  you  think  they  would  do  better  to  resemble  their 
mothers,  I  entirely  agree  with  you,  as  a  general  rule," 
said  Margery,  innocently.  "  It  seems  to  me  that  all  the 
pretty  women  marry  ugly  men." 

"  And  vice  versa  ?  But  I  fancy  a  fair  percentage  of 
women  would  be  glad  to  subscribe  to  a  new  law  that 
should  entail  their  children  only  resembling  them,  — 
whatever  the  other  parent  might  boast  in  the  way  of 
good  looks." 

But  Margery  had  fortunately  turned  to  True. 

"Where  were  you  yesterday  afternoon,  True?"  she 
was  saying.  "  I  went  to  Friedenhof,  and  we  quite  ex- 
pected you." 

"  I  had  to  pay  a  call  at  Simon's  Town.  I  am  so 
sorry.  I  would  have  dropped  in  on  my  way  back  if  I 
had  only  known." 

"  I  had  to  go  home  all  alone  and  unprotected." 

"  Oh,  Lady  !  "  True  looked  quite  distressed.  "  Was  n't 
there  any  one  else  calling  there?  " 

"  Only  a  Captain  Ransom,  whom  I  don't  know." 

"  The  Brawler !  " 

"Who?" 


The  Story  of  Eden  95 

"  We  call  him  the  Brawler.  We  all  have  nicknames 
in  the  Regiment,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  —  what  are  the  others?  " 

True  hesitated.  "  Mr.  Wright  is  Silence,  and  George 
Tennyson  the  Bard,  —  because  of  his  name,  not  his 
tendencies,"  he  said  in  his  soft,  quick  voice.  When 
True  saw  a  difficulty  ahead  he  spoke  more  softly  and 
quickly  than  usual.  "  And  Scott  Murray,  our  Adjutant, 
is  Hard  Lines,  and  Mr.  Forrester  is  Pete,  and  Mr.  Cay- 
ley,  V.  C.  They  mostly  come  from  some  ridiculous 
incident  connected  with  the  men." 

"  Mr.  Cayley's  name  came  from  his  initials,  did  n't 
it?  I  have  never  met  him,  though  I  have  often  heard 
of  him.  Do  you  ever  nickname  the  senior  officers?  " 

"  Sometimes.     Won't  you  have  some  more  tea  ?  " 

"  No  thanks.     What  do  you  call  Major  Vibart?  " 

A  pause. 

"  The  Tracker  !  " 

"  What  an  odd  name !     Why  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  True,  lying  as  serenely  as  he 
smiled.  "  Are  you  going  to  the  Beatrice  dance, 
Lady?" 

"  Yes,  unless  something  dreadful  happens  to  prevent 
me.  Mr.  Livingston  and  Mrs.  Drysdale  have  contrived 
it  for  me  between  them.  I  am  shaking  in  my  shoes  for 
fear  something  shall  happen  even  now." 

"Will  you  give  me  some  dances?" 

"  Of  course  I  will." 

"  Well,  let 's  book  them.  Look  here,  I'll  write  it  on 
my  cuff.  Can  you  give  me  the  first?  " 

"  Yes." 

"And  shall  we  say  five,  and  ten,  and  fourteen?  I 
sha'n't  put  it  any  later,  because  I  find  my  partners  have 
to  leave  to  catch  trains  at  Simon's  Town." 

"  But  that 's  four  dances." 

"  Yes,  —  is  it  too  many  ?  " 

"Oh,  I  don't  mind,  if  you  don't!  I  hope  I  shall 
remember.  One,  and  seven,  and  ten,  and  fourteen  1 " 


96  The  Story  of  Eden 

"How  are  you,  Miss  Cunningham?  What  on  earth 
are  you  doing,  Truman?  "  said  a  voice,  while  True  was 
still  scribbling  busily.  It  was  Captain  Barton,  —  Teddy 
Barton,  with  whom  Madge  had  seen  Vibart  riding.  She 
glanced  round  her  in  instinctive  apprehension,  but  she 
only  found  Livingston  returning  to  her  side. 

"  I  was  booking  my  dances  with  Miss  Cunningham 
for  the  Beatrice  affair,"  said  True,  with  intention. 

"  Well,  I  do  call  that  crafty  of  you  to  slip  in  before 
us  all  like  that !  Miss  Cunningham,  give  me  a  dance 
too,  will  you?  " 

Margery  rather  liked  Captain  Barton.  He  was  a 
shifty,  good-looking  Irishman,  whose  manners  were  as 
carefully  chosen  and  as  suitable  as  his  clothes;  he 
changed  them  too,  much  in  the  same  way.  She  gave 
him  the  two  dances  he  asked  for,  and  then  fell  into 
Livingston's  hands. 

"  You  haven't  asked  me  to  dance  with  you  yet/'  he 
said  airily.  "  I  suppose  you  thought  I  should  be  too  full 
up,  eh?  Well,  I  must  see  what  dances  I  can  give  you." 

"  You  are  such  a  confusing  person,  because  you  al- 
ways do  things  backwards,"  said  Margery,  laughing. 
"  Besides,  I  did  n't  know  that  you  were  going  to  Simon's 
Town  at  all.  Do  you  dance  ?  " 

"  No,  I  sit  out,  and  it 's  much  worse." 

Something  had  caught  Margery's  attention,  —  only  a 
little  opening  in  the  crowd,  and  a  big  figure,  still  some 
distance  away,  coming  through  it  —  in  her  direction. 
She  gave  her  empty  cup  to  True,  and  turned  to  Living- 
ston. "  Let  us  go  back  to  Mrs.  Drysdale,  and  arrange 
our  sitting-out  dances  there,"  she  said.  He  followed 
her  through  the  stream  of  people  still  pushing  their  way 
tea-wards,  and  together  they  strolled  back  slowly  to  the 
cart,  through  the  sunshine  and  the  fir-tree  stems,  fling- 
ing salutations  about  them  as  they  went. 

"  How  d'ye  do,  Forrester.  Good  game,  eh  ?  We  've 
been  following  it  with  the  deepest  interest,  He  does  n't 


The  Story  of  Eden  97 

believe  us,  Miss  Cunningham.  What  a  low,  suspicious 
mind  he  must  have  1  " 

Margery's  smile  was  a  little  strained ;  she  was  face  to 
face  with  another  acquaintance.  "  How  do  you  do, 
Major  Vibart?  "  she  said,  and  walked  on  with  a  care- 
less little  bow.  ("  Let  him  go  back  and  hang  on  her 
carriage  door,  if  he  likes !  I  wonder  he  tore  himself 
away.  Perhaps  she  sent  him  to  get  her  some  tea.  She 
would  be  afraid  of  the  heat  of  the  crowd  herself,  —  it 
would  melt  the  paint  into  streaks  all  down  her  face,  I 
should  think.") 

Vibart  did  not  have  tea,  or  take  Mrs.  Cromo  Dame  any, 
as  it  happened.  He  met  Teddy  Barton,  and  went  and 
had  a  peg  with  him,  and  Teddy,  who  was  suffering  from 
a  recent  impression,  remarked  that  Miss  Cunningham 
was  a  very  pretty  girl,  and  she  had  given  him  two 
dances  for  the  Simon  s  Town  affair  next  week.  "  A  nice 
fresh  little  girl  like  that  has  a  good  time  out  here,"  he 
added.  "  She  was  filling  her  programme  right  and  left. 
She  certainly  won't  be  left  on  her  chaperon's  hands." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Vibart,  thoughtfully. 

He  had  seen  Madge  with  Livingston,  and  been  a 
little  piqued  at  her  careless  salutation,  and  obvious 
preference  for  Beau's  society ;  she  had,  as  he  expressed 
it  to  himself,  "  shelved  him  "  for  the  past  week,  and  he 
supposed  that  it  was  a  continuation  of  the  shelving. 
Until  the  Dodds'  moonlight  picnic  they  had  ridden 
together  almost  daily,  and  their  "  friendship "  had 
ripened  rapidly  in  the  sunshine.  It  had  indeed 
stopped  short  at  a  point  where  Vibart  had  realised 
that  it  must  begin  a  new  stage ;  Madge  had  realised 
nothing,  she  had  "just  enjoyed"  until  Mrs.  Cromo 
Dame  appeared  upon  the  horizon,  and  became  a  prac.r 
tical  demonstration  of  the  unreliability  of  Man.  Madge 
had  disliked  the  momentary  doubt  of  her  own  power 
to  charm  very  much  indeed,  and  in  order  to  reassure 
herself  had  practised  on  the  world  »*  large,  and  dis/ 


98  The  Story  of  Eden 

covered  that  there  were  other  men  in  it  beside  Vibart. 
She  had  nearly  satisfied  herself  over  the  reassuring  pro- 
cess; if  there  were  a  pin-prick,  it  was  still  Vibart's 
defection,  but  she  concealed  that  as  skilfully  as  an 
older  woman  might,  and  hedged  herself  in  from  any 
passing  favours  of  his  on  those  occasions  when  she  had 
since  met  him.  Vibart  pondered  on  these  things,  and 
drew  accurate  conclusions ;  but  he  saw  them  anew  in 
the  light  of  other  men's  preference.  He  had  no  objec- 
tion to  making  Madge  jealous;  even  a  girl  so  easily 
managed  was  as  balm  to  his  vanity,  and  he  regarded  a 
reconciliation  and  renewed  influence  as  an  easy  task,  if 
he  chose  to  take  up  the  affair  where  he  had  put  it  down. 
In  the  mean  time  Mrs.  Cromo  Dame  was  gracious,  and 
he  did  not  hurry  after  Margery  Cunningham ;  it  was 
not  often  that  the  former  lady  and  he  paraded  their 
intimacy  in  public,  but  once  in  a  while  Blanche  liked 
to  play  at  lion-tamer,  and  Vibart  had  found  it  wise  to 
indulge  her.  She  knew  how  to  amuse  as  well  as  attract 
him,  and  he  was  content  to  dangle  in  her  train ;  but 
while  he  dangled,  other  men  found  his  empty  place  to 
their  liking,  and  it  seemed  that  Margery  was  ready  to 
fill  it,  which  put  a  new  complexion  on  the  matter. 
Vibart  was  a  sportsman ;  he  had  the  instincts  of  the 
chase,  and  the  game  that  was  ready  to  fall  to  his  gun 
was  less  to  be  desired  in  his  mind  than  that  which  cost 
time  and  trouble  to  obtain,  —  particularly  if  he  came 
into  competition  with  another  hunter.  Margery's  tac- 
tics might  be  crude  and  obvious ;  but  they  very  much 
enhanced  her  value  in  Vibart's  eyes.  His  conclusions 
were  something  like  this  : 

"  I  wonder  if  she  likes  Barton?  or  Livingston  ?  Bar- 
ton 's  a  fool,  but  he  's  good-looking,  and  she  's  too 
young  to  be  bored  with  him.  Livingston  is  old  enough 
to  be  her  father,  but  he  's  got  brains.  It 's  just  because 
she  's  so  fresh  and  ready  to  take  anything  that  comes, 
that  she  may  really  shelve  me  for  them,  in  earnest.  I 


The  Story  of  Eden  99 

should  n't  like  that.  She  is  pretty  —  as  Barton  said. 
He  has  never  seen  her  in  that  pink  bonnet  thing,  with 
her  face  tempting  you  out  of  the  frills  —  at  least  I  hope 
he  has  n't.  Confound  it,  I  do  hope  he  has  n't !  I 
wonder  if  she  tries  that  sort  of  thing  on  every  man  ?  I 
suppose  so.  Well,  she  deserves  what  she  gets.  What 
a  fool  I  was  not  to  kiss  her  then  !  The  third  time 
of  seeing  her  to  speak  to !  Rather  hot  work,  — 
but  of  course  she  meant  me  to.  She  almost  held  up 
her  face  for  it.  She 's  cold  enough  now,  anyway. 
Damn  the  girl !  I  wish  I  did  n't  keep  on  thinking 
of  her." 

Two  days  after  the  Cricket  match,  he  called  at  Vine 
Lodge,  but  Madge  was  out.  She  came  in  after  some 
ten  minutes,  and  found  him  talking  to  the  Professor ; 
seemingly  quite  satisfied,  she  left  them  to  their  mutual 
entertainment,  and  disappeared  into  the  drawing-room, 
where  Vibart  could  hear  her  singing.  As  he  was  leav- 
ing, she  came  out  onto  the  stoep  again  to  say  good-bye, 
and  he  contrived  to  speak  to  her  alone. 

"  You  never  told  me  that  you  sang." 

"  Did  n't  I  ?  I  don't  profess  to,  in  public.  I  should 
be  afraid  before  most  people.  What  a  lovely  voice 
Miss  Dodd  has,  by  the  way,  and  how  well  she  has  been 
trained  ! " 

"  But  you  could  sing  to  me.  I  wanted  to  come 
into  the  drawing-room  just  now,  only  I  thought 
perhaps  I  should  n't  be  welcome.  You  have  kept  me 
at  such  a  distance  lately." 

"  I  thought  you  were  quite  happy  talking  to  Anthony. 
He  prefers  to  entertain  those  visitors  for  whom  he  has 
any  liking  himself." 

Vibart  did  not  repeat  the  experiment.  He  foresaw 
that  he  should  be  invariably  turned  over  to  the  Pro- 
fessor's tender  mercies.  He  was  genuinely  fond  of 
music,  and  the  discovery  of  Madge's  accomplishment 
in  that  line  aggravated  him  still  further,  so  that  he 


ioo  The  Story  of  Eden 

regretted  the  hitch  in  their  intercourse  all  the  more. 
Margery  did  not  trouble  herself  with  regrets  of  any 
kind.  Her  senses  were  chiefly  on  the  surface  at 
present ;  she  was  magnetic,  ductile,  responsive  to  a 
stronger  influence  which  left  her  quivering  in  the  same 
strain  after  the  actual  notes  were  struck,  as  a  harp 
vibrates  after  the  player's  hands  have  left  the  strings. 
The  vibration  dies  away,  and  the  harp-strings  are  silent 
until  the  same  hand,  or  another,  produces  the  same 
result.  Margery  ceased  to  reflect  Vibart  when  he  was 
no  longer  a  daily  influence,  just  as,  in  the  first  instance, 
she  had  forgotten  to  ask  Starling  who  he  was,  though 
she  had  recognised  his  magnetic  attraction  for  her 
while  their  eyes  met.  Whenever  she  encountered 
him,  he  troubled  her  vaguely  for  the  moment,  but  she 
was  very  busy  enjoying  herself,  and  her  life  was  full 
of  delightful  impressions,  which  she  thought  were 
experiences. 

"  The  down  is  not  yet  brushed  from  the  butterfly's 
wing,"  Livingston  said  to  her  on  the  night  of  the 
Beatrice  ball.  The  Beatrice  was  the  flag-ship  of  those 
days,  and  she  was  giving  a  dance  in  Simon's  Town  with 
the  aid  of  three  sister  ships,  and  all  the  available  social 
world  of  the  Suburbs.  With  the  exception  of  the  Gov- 
ernment House  party,  every  one  was  there.  Madge 
met  her  own  particular  set  on  the  Wynberg  platform ; 
she  had  driven  down  with  the  Dodds,  and  found  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Drysdale  awaiting  her.  The  Professor,  by  the 
mercy  of  Heaven,  had  a  cold;  otherwise  it  was  not 
impossible  that  he  would  have  gone  too,  being,  as  Star- 
ling said,  "  in  the  habit  of  doing  undesirable  things."  He 
did  not  dance,  but  he  made  free  and  fearless  comments 
upon  the  ethics  of  such  amusements,  and  had  almost 
succeeded  in  presenting  them  in  such  a  light  to  Mar- 
gery that  her  soul  yearned  for  a  Convent  or  the  Temple 
gf  Vesta. 

*  Am  I  the  butterfly?  "  said  Margery,  in  response  tq 


The  Story  of  Eden  101 

Livingston's  remark.  They  were  all  standing  about  in 
groups  on  the  platform,  some  untoward  movement  now 
and  then  displacing  the  chrysalis-like  wraps  and  over- 
coats, and  giving  a  hint  of  rainbow  silks,  the  gleam  of 
a  diamond  stud,  or  the  flash  of  scarlet  and  gold,  for 
the  Duke's  and  the  Wessex  and  the  Gunners  were 
assembling  in  full  force.  "  I  think  I  am  rather  like 
a  butterfly,  —  a  white  butterfly  with  gold  spangles  !  I 
wonder  if  you  will  like  my  dress,  Mr.  Livingston  ! " 

"  Why  did  n't  you  consult  me  about  it  ?  I  have 
been  expecting  all  along  that  you  would.  I  hope  your 
shoes  match.  I  am  most  particular  about  shoes  and 
fans  and  gloves  matching." 

"  Yes,  they  all  match.  I  suppose  you  would  n't  have 
sat  out  with  me,  if  they  had  n't?  " 

"  I  should  promptly  have  sat  on  you.  Freaks  of 
nature  ought  not  to  be  allowed  to  go  about  except 
in  shows,  and  a  girl  with  black  feet,  and  a  pink  body, 
and  white  gloves  is  like  a  cross-breed.  Miss  Harbord 
wore  a  heliotrope  frock  and  violet  points  to  her  last 
dance.  I  could  just  bear  that,  but  I  did  not  like  it." 

"What  are  you  two  frivoling  over?"  said  Clarice 
Drysdale,  joining  them.  "  There  is  V.  C.,  Beau,  — 
have  you  spoken  to  him  ?  " 

"  By  Jove,  no  !  I  did  n't  know  he  had  become  a 
Shulamite  and  'returned.'  He  was  out  beyond  Simon's 
Town  somewhere.  What  possesses  the  man  to  come 
all  up  here,  and  then  out  again,  when  it  was  on  his 
way?" 

"  He  dined  with  his  own  Mess  and  dressed  there, 
most  likely.  I  don't  suppose  he  had  taken  his  things 
out  with  him.  Look  at  him,  Madge  !  What  do  you 
think  of  him?" 

"  I  can't  see  anything  except  an  enormous  overcoat 
like  they  all  wear,  a  very  smart  red-and-gold  cap,  and 
a  ragged  moustache.  He  looks  to  me  rather  like 
True." 


102  The  Story  of  Eden 

"He  is  not  at  all  like  True,  though.  He  is  the 
most  interesting  man  in  the  Duke's,  and  much  more 
attractive  to  women  than  Tracker  Vibart,  really.  He 
has  intuition,  Madge,  and  not  one  man  in  twenty  has 
that.  He  understands  what  you  mean  to  say,  through 
what  you  do  say.  I  will  introduce  him  to  you  pre- 
sently. But  you  won't  appreciate  V.  C.  for  another  ten 
years  or  so." 

"  V.  C.  will  make  a  very  good  general,  some  day," 
said  Livingston,  "  if  his  brain  does  not  eat  up  his 
fighting  faculty.  Here  comes  our  train  !  Now,  Miss 
Cunningham,  don't  rush  in  your  excitement,  or  you 
will  charge  into  a  carriage  containing  all  your  enemies, 
and  have  to  scowl  in  their  company  for  the  space  of 
one  hour.  A  carefully  selected  train  party  is  an  essen- 
tial of  a  dance  at  Simon's  Town.  Get  in,  Mrs.  Drys- 
dale,  —  now,  Miss  Cunningham.  No,  don't  sit  beside 
your  chaperon,  as  if  all  men  were  ravening  wolves,  and 
your  sole  hope  lay  in  her.  Come  to  this  opposite  seat 
—  that  gives  three  of  us  a  chance,  one  each  side  of  you 
and  a  third  in  front.  Now,  who  do  we  want?  "  (He 
stood  on  the  platform,  outside  the  carriage  door,  and 
placed  his  arm  as  a  barrier  to  prevent  any  one  getting 
in  whom  he  did  not  choose.  Madge  sat  behind  him, 
laughing  irrepressibly.)  "  Yeats,  we  must  have  you, 
because  Mrs.  Drysdale  is  so  fond  of  you.  Ossy,  you 
will  come  too  of  course,  to  see  that  the  fondness  is 
reciprocated  —  as  a  good  husband  should.  No  man 
likes  to  see  his  wife  throw  away  her  affection  on 
another  man.  We  can  take  four  each  side  in  these 
carriages.  Miss  Harbord,  —  I  want  to  observe  the  cut 
of  your  new  cloak,  so  we  will  admit  you.  That  makes 
five,  myself  six,  —  Barton,  don't  push,  my  dear  fellow, 
you  are  not  coming  in  here  !  V.  C.,  there  is  room  for 
you,  and,  Forrester,  you  may  come  to  make  up." 

"This  carriage  seems  to  be  like  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven,"  said  the  last-named  gentleman,  gaily,  "a 
difficult  place  to  get  into ! " 


The  Story  of  Eden  103 

"  At  all  events  you  are  among  the  elect,"  retorted 
Mrs.  Drysdale,  as  he  settled  himself  beside  Madge. 

"Did  you  see  Mr.  Johnnie  trying  to  get  into  the 
guard's  van?  "  said  Polly  Harbord,  beginning  to  laugh. 
And  when  Polly  began  to  laugh,  every  one  else  followed 
suit,  for  the  laughter  kept  on  bubbling  up  between  the 
words,  and  proved  irresistible.  "  He  got  confused 
between  the  guard,  who  was  a  little  man  in  a  peaked 
cap,  and  True,  whom  he  thought  he  was  following. 
The  last  I  saw  of  them  was,  that  it  looked  like  the 
makings  of  a  good  fight,  and  Mr.  Johnnie  was  punch- 
ing him  in  the  back  and  saying,  '  I  will  come  in !  I 
will  come  in  !  '  " 

"  Let 's  ask  him  how  he  enjoyed  his  ride  as  a  piece 
of  luggage,"  said  Mrs.  Drysdale.  "  I  hope  the  guard 
locked  him  up  as  a  dangerous  lunatic." 

"  Disgraceful ! "  said  Beau  Livingston,  in  huge  de- 
light. "  A  man  of  his  build  and  standing  attacking  a 
poor  little  guard  I " 

"  The  beauty  of  it  was  that  Mrs.  Johnnie  was  trying 
to  call  him  back,  and  had  to  be  forcibly  restrained 
from  hurling  herself  out  of  the  carriage,  by  True," 
added  Forrester.  "  I  was  just  going  to  the  rescue 
when  you  called  me,  Livingston.  '  Oh,  John  !  Oh, 
John  ! '  she  kept  saying,  and  a  porter  who  was  passing 
tried  to  console  her.  '  All  right,  Mum  —  the  guard  '11 
settle  'im,'  he  said.  *  He  ain't  armed,  is  'e  ?  I  thought 
as  'e  looked  like  drink  when  'e  passed  me  just  now. 
Ought  to  know  better  at  'is  age,  —  but  there,  it 's  an 
'ot  climate,  and  a  long  summer  we  Ve  'ad  !  Can't  be 
too  'ard  on  'im.  I  've  bin  tempted  myself  at  times  ! '  " 

There  was  a  roar  of  delight  from  Livingston  and 
Oswald  Drysdale  and  Yeats,  and  the  chatter  continued 
more  or  less  uproarious  as  the  train  swung  backwards 
and  forwards  round  the  curves  all  along  the  coast. 
Madge  looked  out  of  the  window  past  Forrester  some- 
times, and  saw  the  black  moving  sea,  and  the  gleam  of 


104  The  Story  of  Eden 

ship's  lights ;  it  was  a  fair  dry  night,  and  Simon's  Town 
felt  degrees  warmer  than  Wynberg,  —  as  indeed  it  is,  — 
as  they  walked  through  the  dockyard  to  the  big  store 
buildings  where  the  dance  was  held. 

"  We  shall  never  find  anything  again,  I  know  we 
sha'n't ! "  said  Mrs.  Drysdale,  as  she  reluctantly  relin- 
quished her  wraps  in  the  cloak-room,  and  fought  for 
the  privilege  of  changing  her  shoes.  "  Good-evening, 
Mrs.  Cromo  Dame  !  What  a  lovely  night,  is  n't  it?  " 

"  Rather  warm,  don  t  you  think  ?  April  is  an  early 
month  \oi  a  dance." 

"  So  she  is  here,"  thought  Madge,  giving  a  last 
fond  touch  to  her  soft  hair.  "  I  am  glad  I  am  not 
dependent  on  Major  Vibart  for  dances  !  I  should  cer- 
tainly be  a  wall-flower.  Ready  ?  Yes,  quite  !  " 

Mrs.  Drysdale  pushed  her  way  through  the  incoming 
throng,  and  passed  into  the  ball-room,  Madge  following. 
Madge  had  never  seen  anything  like  that  flag- draped 
ball-room  in  her  experience  of  provincial  Cinderellas 
at  Home,  and  the  lights  and  colours  and  uniforms  got 
into  her  head  a  little,  —  particularly  the  uniforms. 

"  I  did  not  know  you  were  so  nice  ! "  she  said  in- 
genuously to  Joey  Tullock,  a  clean-faced  naval  lieuten- 
ant who  was  bristling  with  gold  lace. 

"  I  always  knew  I  was  not  appreciated ! "  he  re- 
turned sadly,  as  he  handed  her  back  her  programme. 
"  The  tents  outside  are  the  best  places  for  sitting  out, 
Miss  Cunningham.  I  arranged  them  myself." 

"  Thanks  for  the  hint,"  said  Margery.  "  I  will 
remember.  Oh !  " 

Joey  had  turned  deftly  in  half  an  inch  of  space,  and 
was  wriggling  his  way  through  the  crowd  after  the 
adroit  fashion  possible  to  none  but  a  Navy  man.  But 
it  was  not  his  blue-and-golden  person  which  had 
drawn  forth  Madge's  exclamation;  she  could  have 
bitten  her  tongue  out  the  next  instant  for  her  tribute 
to  Vibart's  good  looks,  but  that  she  did  not  think  any 


The  Story  of  Eden  105 

6ne  heard  her.  Vibart  in  mufti  was  a  very  splendid 
animal,  and  always  well  groomed.  But  Vibart  in  uni- 
form was  as  near  the  ideal  of  the  admirers  of  "  Illus- 
trated Bits,"  and  Hal  Ludlow's  pictures  therein,  as  it  is 
possible  to  come  in  real  life.  "  A  mighty  proper  man," 
with  his  scarlet  and  gold,  his  clinking  spurs,  his  whole 
big  form  decked  as  for  a  Lord  Mayor's  Show,  and  his 
quiet  swagger.  There  was  nothing  aggressive  about 
Vibart  save  the  unavoidable  self-assertion  of  Nature's 
triumph  in  making  him.  She  had  really  done  it  ex- 
ceedingly well,  and  Madge  thought  so.  He  always 
influenced  her  when  she  came  into  personal  contact  with 
him,  and  she  was  suddenly  caught  by  the  eyes  again  as 
he  advanced  towards  her. 

"  You  will  give  me  a  dance,  Miss  Cunningham  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  Major  Vibart  ! " 

Neither  voice  was  very  steady,  and  both  pairs  of  eyes 
looked  into  each  other  with  a  half  reluctant  admira- 
tion —  a  realisation  of  something  being  inevitable  now. 

"  The  downward  path  is  easy  — 
But  there 's  no  turning  back." 

Madge  knew,  in  that  moment  while  he  scribbled  his 
name  on  her  programme,  with  his  handsome  face 
rather  graver  than  usual,  that  the  rest  of  the  evening 
was  to  be  as  a  dream  to  her,  but  that  Vibart  alone 
would  stand  out  in  lurid  distinctness ;  while  Vibart  was 
pleasantly  conscious  of  his  own  quickened  pulses,  and 
of  something  that  was  almost  fear  in  approaching 
the  small  white  ethereal  thing  before  him.  This  was  a 
new  feeling  and  slightly  maddening ;  it  was  also,  prob- 
ably, more  genuine  than  his  usual  emotions.  Madge's 
programme  was  somewhat  engaged  already,  he  had  to 
place  his  name  low  down  before  handing  it  back  to 
her. 

"  I  have  taken  two,"  he  said,  "  I  hope  —  * 

"  Very  well." 


io6  The  Story  of  Eden 

Then  they  parted,  —  Madge  to  vainly  try  and  enjoy 
herself  in  her  usual  heartwhole  fashion,  but  the  mov- 
ing panorama  of  flying  feet  and  bright  colours,  with 
its  attendant  music  and  chatter,  —  yes,  even  her  own 
joy  in  the  moment  of  the  dance,  —  were  unreal  and 
shadowed  with  some  presage  of  Fate.  Vibart  busied 
himself  with  the  other  women  with  whom  he  wished 
to  dance,  —  Mrs.  Cromo  Dame  among  the  number,  — 
and  stood  out  occasionally  and  watched.  Once  he 
came  across  Livingston,  and  they  went  and  drank  to- 
gether at  the  refreshment-table  which  stood  at  one  end 
of  the  long  dancing  floor,  while  a  raised  dais  for  the 
band  filled  the  other. 

"  I  am  as  dry  as  the  Karroo  in  February,"  said  Liv- 
ingston. "  Whisky  and  soda,  waiter  !  No  whisky  ? 
Nonsense  !  Go  into  Simon's  Town  and  get  some  then. 
What  will  you  have,  Jack  ?  " 

"  I  '11  have  a  whisky  too.  Can  you  manage  it, 
waiter?  " 

"  I  daresay  I  can,  sir  1 " 

"  What  a  barbarous  custom  it  is  to  decree  that  we 
shall  dance  on  coffee  and  injurious  sugar-drinks  until 
supper-time  ! "  said  Livingston.  "  That  is  the  worst 
of  admitting  children  to  these  entertainments.  Why 
can't  they  have  a  Christmas  tree  for  the  middies,  and 
let  us  have  our  dances  properly  whiskied,  without  fear 
of  contaminating  their  morals  ?  " 

"Jolly  little  boys  !  "  said  Vibart,  good-naturedly.  "I 
wish  our  cubs  were  half  as  good  stuff.  We  've  got  a 
Thing  out  of  the  nursery  by  the  last  boat,  who  can't 
put  on  his  uniform,  and  blushes  every  time  Forrester 
tells  a  tale  at  Mess.  However,  Truman  informs  me 
that  the  Subs  are  making  his  life  a  Hell  for  him,  so 
perhaps  he  '11  improve." 

"  I  would  back  Wright  and  Ames  and  Tennyson  to 
put  a  polish  on  most  Tenderfoots  certainly!  Forres- 
ter's yarns  are  rather  stiff  sometimes,  Jack.  He  has  a 


The  Story  of  Eden  107 

pretty  wit,  but  he  talks  dirt  like  a  minor  poet !  There 's 
Mrs.  Cromo  Dame  dancing  with  him  now.  What  mag- 
nificent arms  the  woman  has  !  " 

"  She  would  strip  well !  "  said  Vibart,  carelessly,  as 
the  waltz  ended  and  the  couples  streamed  past.  "  Are 
you  dancing  the  next,  Livingston?" 

"  Not  that  I  know  of.     Are  you?" 

"  I  believe  so,"  Vibart  answered,  referring  to  the 
card.  "  Oh  —  yes  !  "  He  slipped  it  back  into  his 
pocket,  and  took  up  the  whisky  and  soda  with  a  steady 
hand.  Yet  his  heart  was  not  quite  steady  when  five 
minutes  later  he  met  Madge  at  the  door  and  told 
her  that  it  was  his  dance,  and  he  waited  in  silence 
while  she  shifted  her  hand  from  Joey  Tullock's  arm 
to  his  own. 

Madge  had  been  secretly  waiting  for  him ;  she  knew 
in  spite  of  herself  when  his  dance  was  coming,  and 
shivered  a  little  as  he  put  his  arm  round  her. 

"This  is  the  second  time,"  she  thought  to  herself, 
her  eyes  resting  vaguely  on  the  silver  Greyhound  —  the 
Duke's  Greyhound  —  on  the  lappet  of  his  coat.  "  The 
first  time  was  when  we  played  Tags.  How  silent  he  is  ! 
I  wonder  what  he  is  thinking?  That  I  don't  dance  as 
well  as  the  red-haired  woman,  I  suppose  ! — what  a  very 
broad  chest !  —  how  appallingly  impressive  uniform  is 
when  you  see  it  so  near  —  I  wish  I  were  farther  off —  I 
think  I  am  going  to  be  frightened,  and  it  is  so  silly." 

"  This  is  the  second  time,"  thought  Vibart,  as  she 
settled  herself  into  the  hollow  of  his  bended  arm,  and 
pressed  backwards  for  the  swing,  "  but  it  won't  be  the 
last."  His  hand  never  tightened  on  her  waist,  nor  was 
there  anything  to  startle  her ;  only  his  muscles  felt  like 
iron  to  the  light  weight  of  her  body,  and  she  was  hap- 
pily conscious  of  going  like  a  bird.  She  was  really 
sorry  when  half-way  through  the  dance  he  stopped,  and 
offered  her  his  arm. 

"Thank  you!"  he  said.     "Will  you  come  and  sit 


io8  The  Story  of  Eden 

out  a  little  now?     There  are  some  seats  outslcre-.  -rf 
you  are  not  afraid  of  the  open  air?" 

"  I  am  not  at  all  afraid,  thank  you  !  —  (Then  I  don't 
dance  as  well  as  she  does  !  )"  Madge  added  to  herself, 
as  they  went  out  of  the  ball-room,  across  the  landing 
where  a  stray  couple  or  so  were  sitting,  and  down  the 
wooden  steps  into  the  outside  world  and  the  velve* 
night.  There  was  a  piece  of  waste  ground  round  the 
Store,  and  here  Joey  Tullock  and  his  fellows  had  pitched 
three  or  four  small  tents,  and  placed  a  few  seats  out- 
side  as  well.  Vibart  chose  a  tent,  and  lifting  the  flap 
ushered  Madge  into  the  dim  light  of  that  retreat.  It  was 
all  rather  strange  and  silent,  and  she  had  a  hysterical 
desire  to  laugh  in  default  of  his  lacking  conversation. 

"This  is  quite  a  cosy  corner,  is  n't  it?"  she  said, 
seating  herself  in  a  low  basket  chair,  and  trembling 
with  the  effort  to  speak  naturally.  There  was  red  cloth 
on  the  ground ;  as  she  stretched  out  her  feet  in  front 
of  her,  she  thought  how  unnaturally  small  her  little 
white  slippers  looked. 

"  Yes,"  said  Vibart,  sitting  down  beside  her.  There 
came  a  pause,  through  which  Madge  heard  the  crickets 
singing  in  the  night,  and  Vibart  took  the  fan  lying 
on  her  knee,  and  began  opening  and  shutting  it  idly. 
"  Now  tell  me  what  I  've  done  !  "  he  said  at  last. 

"  Done  ?     Nothing  —  that  I  know  of !  " 

"  Yet  you  will  not  ride  with  me  ! " 

"  I  never  said  so." 

"  No,  you  sent  me  a  polite  little  note  to  explain  that 
you  had  a  horse  of  your  own  now,  and  wanted  Kaffir 
no  longer,  in  which  you  also  neatly  explained  that  you 
were  riding  with  Miss  Dodd  —  that  I  was  not  wanted 
was  obvious  ! " 

"  I  am  sorry  if  you  took  it  in  that  way ;  but  I  daresay 
you  managed  to  amuse  yourself  elsewhere." 

"  You  did  your  best  to  drive  me  elsewhere  any- 
way !  You  will  hardly  look  at  me  or  speak  to  me  when 


The  Story  of  Eden  109 

I  meet  you,  and  if  I  call,  you  leave  me  to  your  brother 
and  run  away  !  I  thought  we  were  to  be  friends?" 

"Yes." 

"But  you  think  that  is  impossible  between  a  man 
and  a  woman?" 

Margery  felt  as  if  the  earth  shook  under  her  feet,  and 
made  a  rush  for  less  dangerous  ground.  "  If  you  think 
I  have  been  unfriendly,"  she  said,  with  some  difficulty, 
"  I  can  only  say  that  I  am  very  sorry." 

"Will  you  seal  our  compact  afresh? " 

She  thought  of  the  sunlight  on  the  blue  plumbago 
hedges,  and  her  outstretched  hand  that  he  had  kissed. 
What  was  possible  by  day  was  not  to  be  dared  by 
night. 

"  I  do  not  acknowledge  that  I  broke  the  compact ! " 
she  said  hastily.  "  I  only  rode  with  Starling." 

He  did  not  answer,  and  she  looked  at  him  in  appre- 
hension. He  was  regarding  her  much  as  a  large  animal 
might  a  small  one  which  it  wished  to  devour,  but  Mar- 
gery did  not  see  the  similarity.  She  only  felt  that  the 
thin  skin  of  their  conversation  was  torn  away —  that  their 
conventional  aspect  was  worse  than  wasted.  All  the 
light  chatter  and  frivolity  of  the  ball-room  seemed  sud- 
denly a  hideous  mockery,  all  the  careless  enjoyment,  the 
irresponsible  life  of  the  neighbourhood,  an  insufficient 
covering  for  brute  Nature  after  all.  Margery  made  an 
ineffectual  effort  to  rise,  while  her  eyes  were  still  held 
fascinated  by  Vibart's  long,  uncontrolled  gaze. 

The  night  stood  still  to  listen. 

For  one  instant  there  was  a  dimly  lit  tent,  two  loung- 
ing chairs  telling  their  tale  of  the  dance  and  its  physical 
weariness,  and  the  relaxing  of  muscles  in  delicious  re- 
pose,—  two  bright  figures  in  scarlet  and  white  leaning 
a  little  towards  each  other,  as  if  they  saw  something 
beneath  the  visible,  commonplace  scene ;  as  that  in- 
stant passed,  the  man  leaned  down  over  the  girl,  the 
size  and  weight  of  his  figure  obscuring  her,  and  then  — 
alas  !  alas  !  —  he  had  kissed  her. 


no  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  No  ! "  Vibart  said,  as  she  struggled  to  get  free. 
"  Not  yet !  One  moment  more  —  for  God's  sake,  my 
darling  !  one  moment." 

Margery's  experience  had  not  yet  held  a  man's  voice 
hoarsened  with  his  own  uncurbed  feeling.  She  shrank 
back  quivering,  awed  by  the  realisation  that  she  had 
touched  something  outside  her  own  capabilities.  The 
passion  of  the  moment  was  real  only  in  the  man  ;  the 
girl  was  swept  off  her  mental  balance,  paralysed  by  a 
stronger  vitality,  but  she  had  nothing  to  give  save  fear. 

As  his  lips  left  hers,  Vibart  gave  an  exclamation  that 
was  like  a  suppressed  cry.  He  was  feeling  too  deeply 
to  be  fluent,  but  indeed  it  never  occurred  to  him  to  ask 
for  forgiveness.  He  lifted  her  to  her  feet  in  the  same 
strenuous  silence,  but  even  as  they  stood  upright,  face 
to  face,  there  came  a  sound  of  laughter  and  voices,  and 
a  man's  hand  raised  the  flap  of  the  tent.  With  one 
movement  Vibart  had  released  Margery  almost  before 
he  had  seized  her,  and  offered  her  his  arm. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Major!"  —  the  intruder  was 
Forrester  with  Miss  Hofman.  "All  the  tents  seem 
taken.  We  did  think  we  had  secured  this  one  !  " 

"  You  can  have  it,  for  we  are  just  going  back  to  the 
dancers.  Our  neglected  programmes  reproach  us  !  " 
said  Vibart.  After  all  he  was  equal  to  the  occasion, 
which  in  that  first  horrified  moment  she  had  feared  he 
would  not  be.  It  gave  her  a  shock  to  hear  the  light- 
ness of  his  tone  after  his  recent  passion,  but  as  they 
crossed  the  intervening  space  of  outside  night  to  the 
big  Storehouse,  from  whose  doors  and  windows  came  a 
streaming  glare  like  a  search-light,  he  drew  the  hand 
on  his  arm  closer  to  his  side,  and  said  something  she 
could  not  catch.  It  seemed  to  be  a  reference  to  their 
second  dance,  which  was  yet  to  come,  mingled  with 
undistinguishable  tenderness  —  some  love- words  that 
made  her  heart  beat  faster  again.  The  figure  of  Major 
Yeats,  lounging  in  the  doorway  of  the  ball-room,  gave 
her  a  positive  sense  of  regained  security. 


The  Story  of  Eden  in 

"  This  is  my  dance,  Miss  Cunningham  ! "  he  remarked 
quizzically. 

"  Is  it  ?  I  am  glad  I  came  back  in  time  !  " 

"  In  time,  forsooth  !    It  is  half  over  !  " 

"  Oh,  dear  !  Let  us  dance  the  rest  of  it  then,  and  lose 
as  little  as  possible  !  " 

She  bowed  to  Vibart,  and  turned  away,  half  deter- 
mined to  dance  with  him  no  more  to-night.  "  I  could 
tear  my  frock  and  have  to  go  to  the  cloak-room  and 
mend  it,"  she  thought.  "Or  get  True  to  hide  me 
somewhere  so  that  I  could  n't  be  found  when  the  time 
came.  Anything  would  do.  It  is  easy  to  get  out  of  it. 
Only  —  I  don't  know  that  I  want  to  —  quite  !  I  am 
horribly  frightened,  and  I  did  n't  like  it  at  all,  but  I  do 
want  to  see  what  he  will  do  and  say  !  After  all,  lots  of 
girls  have  been  kissed  by  married  men,  and  it  has  n't 
mattered.  I  daresay  most  of  those  here  to-night  would 
think  nothing  of  it.  And  I  can  always  tell  him  not  to. 
Oh,  I  think  I  '11  dance  with  him,  and  just  see  !  "  Mar- 
gery was  very  like  a  child  playing  with  electricity,  who 
does  n't  like  the  shock  when  it  comes,  but  cannot  re- 
sist trying  it  just  once  more. 

"Have  you  had  any  supper,  Miss  Cunningham?" 
Yeats  said  kindly.  He  liked  the  bright- faced  girl  who 
seemed  as  fresh  as  her  white  frock,  and  there  was  some- 
thing almost  fatherly  in  his  manner  as  he  piloted  her  to 
the  supper-table  and  attended  to  her  wants.  Margery 
was  almost  too  excited  to  eat,  but  she  was  a  healthy 
little  mortal,  and  her  supper  did  not  come  amiss  to  her. 
She  discovered  that  her  vis-a-vis  was  True,  who  was 
beaming  at  her  from  his  seat  next  to  Starling.  Mar- 
gery nodded  back  gaily,  and  the  party  was  a  merry 
one. 

"Try  the  thing  in  jelly  to  your  left,  Miss  Cunning- 
ham," said  Yeats.  "  I  always  try  the  things  in  jelly  at 
a  ball  supper.  Experience  tells  me  that  they  at  least 
are  fresh," 


U2  The  Story  of  Eden 

"Mr.  Livingston  says  that  the  pink  food  is  always 
the  best ! "  remarked  Madge,  as  she  prodded  the  dish 
in  question  with  a  fork.  "  What  is  this  made  of,  do 
you  suppose?" 

"  Oh,  don't  ask  !  '  Where  the  apple  reddens,'  you 
know,  '  never  pry  ! '  You  don't  want  to  lose  your  Eden, 
do  you?" 

"  I  don't  think  I  quite  know  what  you  are  talking 
about.  Is  it  a  quotation?" 

"  Of  sorts,  yes,  — 

" '  Where  the  apple  reddens 

Never  pry  — 
Lest  we  lose  our  Edens, 
Eve  and  1 1 ' 

Don't  you  read  Browning?" 

"  I  never  seem  to  read  anything,  nowadays  !  I  am 
growing  very  frivolous." 

"  All  the  better,  at  your  age  !  But  you  might  read 
Browning  and  find  him  frivolous  too.  It  is  one  of  the 
functions  of  a  real  poet  that  he  shall  have  wares  to  suit 
every  necessity." 

"Is  frivolity  a  necessity?"  said  Starling's  soft  voice 
across  the  table.  "  You  are  the  first  person  I  ever  met 
with  who  dared  to  suggest  that  Browning  could  be  friv- 
olous, Major  Yeats." 

"  He  can  be  frivolously  applied  anyhow  !  I  remem- 
bered an  adaptation  of  two  lines  of  his  to  cheap  cham- 
pagne, which  appeared  in  Punch,  and  which  recurs  to 
my  mind  every  time  I  am  offered  inferior  wine  — 

"  '  How  mad,  and  sad,  and  bad  it  was  — 
But  O  how  it  was  sweet  I '  " 

"  But  I  like  sweet  champagne,"  protested  Margery, 
"  even  if  it  is  cheap." 

"And  do  you  like  the  consequences?"  asked  Yeats, 
laughing.  "  Look  ahead,  Miss  Cunningham.  No  life 
can  be  lived  entirely  in  the  present." 


The  Story  of  Eden  113 

For  a  second  the  gravity  through  which  his  eyes  al- 
ways smiled,  as  if  a  little  weary  of  his  own  knowledge, 
touched  the  bright  young  face  at  his  side.  Margery 
thought  that  he  looked  more  than  ever  as  if  he  had 
been  drawn  by  Du  Maurier,  —  the  fine  lines  of  his  face, 
the  lines  of  a  Gentleman,  and  the  peculiar  air  about  him 
of  being  thorough-bred.  She  wondered  with  a  pang  if 
he  guessed  !  Was  there  any  betrayal  in  her  manner  or 
Vibart's  when  they  spoke  to  him  at  the  door  of  the  ball- 
room ?  She  could  not  tell  even  herself  why,  but  she 
knew  that  she  very  much  wished  to  keep  Major  Yeats's 
good  opinion,  and  she  hoped  his  chance  words  meant 
nothing. 

When  Vibart  came  for  his  second  dance  Margery 
was  sitting  with  Mrs.  Drysdale.  She  had  hardly  seen 
her  chaperon  all  the  evening,  but  they  had  seized  an 
unexpected  chance  and  were  comparing  notes. 

"Is  it  your  dance  with  her,  Major  Vibart?"  Mrs. 
Drysdale  said.  "  Please  don't  go  and  hide  her  where 
she  can't  hear  the  train  bell !  I  know  it  will  ring  soon, 
and  then  there  will  be  a  stampede,  and  Ossy  will  hurry 
us  away  without  half  our  clothes." 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Drysdale,  how  extremely  shocking  ! 
I  blush  for  you  already  !  " 

"  Oh,  well,  our  outside  clothes,  of  course  !  We  are 
not  returned  to  the  Garden  of  Eden  yet,  though  Miss 
Cunningham  thinks  that  Wynberg  must  be  the  original 
Paradise." 

How  strange  it  was  that  every  one  kept  on  referring 
to  the  same  subject !  Yeats's  quotation  returned  to 
Margery's  mind,  as  she  rose  and  sauntered  away  with 
Vibart  — 

"  Where  the  apple  reddens 

Never  pry  — 
Lest  we  lose  our  Edens, 
Eve  and  1 1 " 

"  Don't  you  think  I  am  an  exemplary  character  to  be 
8 


H4  The  Story  of  Eden 

found  under  the  wing  of  my  chaperon?  "  she  said,  gaily. 

"  I  was  just  thinking  how  delightful  you  must  be  to 
undertake  as  a  charge ! "  he  returned,  in  his  pleas- 
antest  tones.  "  No  anxiety  about  you,  —  no  hunting 
out  of  dark  corners,  —  no  dreadful  feeling  that  you  are 
a  wall-flower  and  having  anything  but  a  good  time  ! 
Your  success  is  too  evident  to  be  discussed  in  any  way." 
He  laughed  a  little,  and  Madge  took  courage.  She 
could  not  believe  in  a  frowning  future  when  people 
laughed.  Vibart  made  no  pretence  of  dancing;  he 
went  straight  out  to  the  tents  again,  and  finding  one 
empty,  stooped  his  tall  head  and  led  his  partner  in, 
drawing  the  flap  to  afterwards,  —  even  arranging  the 
loose  folds  on  the  ground  with  his  foot  to  assure  their 
remaining  closed.  Then  he  turned  round,  all  pretence 
of  lightness  gone  from  his  manner  and  his  eyes  ablaze, 
and  caught  Madge  in  his  arms.  There  was  a  confi- 
dence in  the  action  that  struck  her  dumb. 

"  I  have  been  waiting  for  this  for  the  last  hour !  "  he 
said.  Margery  liked  the  fervour  of  the  tone  and  the 
sense  of  being  strongly  yet  delicately  held  in  his  arms. 
Vibart  was  too  wise  to  press  his  advantages.  He  knew 
that  he  had  lost  his  head  before,  and  he  did  not  mean 
to  startle  his  prey  before  escape  was  too  difficult. 
"  Don't  turn  your  face  away,  Madge  !  You  don't  mind 
my  kissing  you,  do  you  ?  " 

"I  don't  think  you  ought  to,"  Madge  whispered 
uneasily. 

"Why?  What  possible  harm  can  it  do  you?  " 

No  answer,  as  he  knew  there  would  be. 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  being  scolded  ?  But  no  one  need 
know.  And  surely,  if  you  like  to  be  kind  to  me  and 
make  me  happy,  that  can't  be  wrong,  can  it?  Do  you 
think  it  wrong  to  be  happy,  Madge  ?  " 

«  No,  but  —  " 

"  But  it  does  n't  make  you  happy?  " 

"  I  did  n't  mean  that  exactly,  I  meant  —  " 


The  Story  of  Eden  115 

"  Look  here,  what  can  it  possibly  matter  to  any  one 
else  if  you  and  I  choose  to  be  all  in  all  to  each  other  ? 
What  the  eye  doesn't  see,  the  heart  doesn't  grieve 
for.  We  won't  tell  them.  But  to  touch  you,  to  hold 
you  in  my  arms,  is  everything  to  me.  You,  in  your 
happy  little  life,  can't  realise  the  hardships  and  the 
difficulties  that  a  man  has  to  endure  in  silence.  And 
my  lot  has  been  a  pretty  dark  one,  God  knows ! 
Surely  you  won't  grudge  me  a  little  of  your  sunshine, 
Madge?" 

The  girl  put  up  her  hand  nervously,  and  fingered 
the  thick  gold  shoulder-straps  of  his  uniform  without 
speaking.  She  was  trying  to  find  words  whereby  to 
disentangle  herself  from  the  web  which  seemed  to  be 
closing  round  her.  It  was  impossible  to  refer  to  his 
"  hard  lot "  in  more  definite  words  than  he  had  done ; 
it  was  horrible  even  to  suggest  that  it  could  do  her 
harm  to  be  made  love  to,  —  as  a  fact  she  was  practi- 
cally ignorant  of  what  the  "  harm  "  could  be,  her  objec- 
tion being  based  on  a  vague  tradition  that  a  girl  must  not 
approach  nearer  than  within  two  yards  of  a  man  unless 
he  is  going  to  marry  her,  or  has  the  excuse  of  danc- 
ing, skating,  etc.,  of  course.  So  she  stood  in  silence, 
troubled  by  the  absence  of  the  prescribed  two  feet, 
with  Vibart's  hand  caressing  her  face  and  hair  tenderly, 
and  his  eyes  reading  her  transparent  face  even  more 
easily  than  her  silence. 

"  Madge,  have  n't  you  any  love  to  give  me  ?  " 

Still  the  silence. 

"Not  even  a  little?" 

"  Please  don't  ask  me.     You  know  I  ought  n't  —  n 

"  But  people  can't  be  bound  by  what  they  are  taught 
they  '  ought '  or  '  ought  not '  to  do,  my  dear  child ! 
It  is  n't  in  human  nature.  You  think,  because  you 
have  been  told  certain  conventional  platitudes,  that 
you  must  n't  care  for  me ;  but  do  you  think  the  plati- 
tudes will  prevent  it  ?  Don't  look  so  troubled,  —  it  is 


n  6  The  Story  of  Eden 

only  in  Nature  that  we  should  come  together  like  this. 
You  can't  help  it,  nor  can  I.  What  is  the  use  of  say- 
ing what  we  '  ought '  to  do  ?  —  the  question  is  what  we 
have  done.  I  have  grown  to  love  you  so  that  I  can't 
give  you  up  —  " 

"  Oh,  please  don't,  you  frighten  me  !  And  I  don't 
think  I  oug — ,  — can  see  you  any  more  after  this." 

He  held  her  for  a  moment  in  silence.  "  Madge,  do 
you  love  me?  "  he  said  abruptly. 

"I  don't  know,  —  I  suppose  so,  —  I  think  I  do." 

"Can  you  trust  me  not  to  do  you  any  harm?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  hastily. 

"  If  it  is  fine  to-morrow  night,  will  you  come  out  into 
your  garden  about  half-past  nine,  —  I  can't  get  down 
before,  —  and  I  '11  join  you  in  the  vineyard  arbour 
which  you  showed  me  the  other  day.  I  want  to  dis- 
cuss this  with  you  further,  and  we  may  be  interrupted 
any  moment  now.  Will  you  come?  " 

"  I  will  try  —  " 

"  All  right,  —  your  brother  goes  to  sleep  after  din- 
ner, does  n't  he  ?  I  will  come  through  the  gap  in  the 
hedge,  not  round  in  front  of  the  house  at  all.  For  the 
present  I  won't  worry  you  any  more,  my  poor  little  girl ! 
But  give  me  one  last  kiss,  because  you  are  so  sweet, 
and  I  have  got  all  to-night  and  to-morrow  to  get 
through  without  you  ! " 

Madge  stood  on  tiptoe  and  drew  his  handsome, 
flushed  face  down  to  her  own.  "  You  are  so  tall !  "  she 
said  tremulously.  "  Good-night,  — Jack  !  " 

"  I  don't  care,"  she  thought  recklessly,  "  I  shall  be- 
lieve in  him  !  And  I  will  give  him  all  the  love  he 
needs,  poor  darling !  "  All  through  the  homeward 
journey  she  was  busy  thinking  of  Vibart  and  the 
strange,  unlooked-for  turn  things  had  taken,  —  un- 
looked-for to  her,  at  any  rate,  —  so  that  the  rest  of 
the  party  accused  her  of  sleepiness,  and  tried  in  vain 
to  rouse  her.  She  heard,  a?  if  far  away,  their  joking 


The  Story  of  Eden  117 

roices  asking  Johnnie  Dodd  if  he  meant  to  fight  the 
engine-driver  this  time,  and  drive  the  train  himself  into 
the  sea.  Only  once  did  she  become  conscious  that 
True  was  rolling  up  his  overcoat  to  make  a  pillow  for 
her  head,  and  smiled  at  him  gratefully.  But  they  were 
all  shadows  of  which  Vibart  was  the  real  substance. 
The  light  fabric  of  the  life  around  her  had  been  rudely 
torn  away,  and  gave  her  a  glimpse  of  heaving,  seeth- 
ing Nature  underneath.  Was  it  always  so?  Did  all 
these  women  carry  a  hidden  knowledge  of  something 
awfully  present  and  awfully  real  beneath  it  all?  She 
shrank  with  an  unexplained  horror,  the  gossip  which 
had  fallen  heedlessly  on  her  ears  assuming  sudden 
strange  meanings.  What  was  it?  How  could  raw 
human  passion  —  ugly,  untamable  nature  —  dare  to 
approach  the  invulnerable  guard  of  conventionality 
and  civilisation?  She  shut  her  eyes  and  would  not 
think. 

"  Where  the  apple  reddens 

Never  pry  — 
Lest  we  lose  our  Edens, 
Eve  and  I." 


CHAPTER  VI 

"  Lend  thy  shape  for  the  shame  of  Eden  — 
(And  O  the  bower  and  the  hour  /) 
Is  not  the  foe-God  weak  as  the  foeman 
When  love  grows  hate  in  the  heart  of  a  woman  ?  " 

THERE  was  a  gymkana  on  at  Kenilworth  race- 
course, the  day  after  the  Beatrice  dance,  and  Madge 
wanted  to  go  to  it.  There  was  no  difficulty  about  an 
escort,  for  Starling  had  asked  her  to  go  with  them,  and 
had  offered  to  pick  her  up,  as  it  was  on  their  way. 
Madge  felt  more  than  ever  inclined  to  go  on  the  day 
in  question,  for  she  rose  with  a  feeling  of  restlessness 
upon  her,  and  a  disinclination  to  settle  to  anything 
that  would  allow  her  to  think.  If  she  thought,  she 
must  come  to  some  decision  about  that  meeting  in  the 
garden,  which  she  did  not  wish  to  do.  When  she 
dwelt  on  it,  it  assumed  such  grave  proportions  that  all 
she  could  find  to  say  about  it  to  herself  was  "Of  course 
I  shall  not  keep  the  appointment.  He  ought  never  to 
have  suggested  it,  and  I  ought  never  to  have  said  yes 
for  a  moment.  —  Oh,  dear,  that  'ought*  and  'ought 
not ' !  It  was  just  what  he  said  did  n't  weigh  a  bit, 
and  I  could  n't  help  it  by  merely  saying  I  should. 
Well,  if  I  can't  help  it  it  does  n't  matter.  But  of  course 
I  need  n't  go  —  or  if  I  do,  it  will  only  be  to  tell  him  to 
go  away."  It  was  much  more  satisfactory  to  put  the 
matter  out  of  her  mind,  and  say  she  would  see 
when  the  time  came.  When  treated  as  if  it  were  of 
no  importance,  it  really  seemed  of  no  importance. 

"I  will  go  to  the  gymkana  and  forget  all  about  it!  " 
said  Margery,  as  she  went  out  onto  the  stoep  befor* 


The  Story  of  Eden  119 

breakfast.  "  What  a  lovely  day !  I  am  sorry  the 
grapes  are  over.  I  hate  to  see  the  vines  turning 
golden  and  dropping  their  leaves.  What  a  pity  that 
nothing  lasts  —  even  in  the  sunshine  ! " 

There  was  one  factor  in  her  arrangements,  however, 
of  which  she  had  forgotten  to  dispose.  This  was  the 
Professor  in  a  bad  temper.  She  had  found  that  he 
had  gone  to  bed  when  she  returned  home  at  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  by  a  previous  arrangement 
had  knocked  at  his  door  and  said,  "  I  have  come  home, 
Anthony !  "  to  which  he  had  replied  by  requesting  her 
to  stop  that  row  and  let  him  sleep.  She  had  laughed 
irrepressibly  at  the  time,  and  wondered  with  a  sudden 
daring  thought  if  he  would  ever  have  found  out  if  she 
had  asked  any  one  in  for  some  refreshment  after  the  long 
journey,  before  she  went  to  bed?  True  had  seen  her 
to  her  own  door.  "  I  might  just  as  well  have  given 
him  a  whisky  and  soda  !  "  thought  Madge.  "  It  would 
have  been  rather  fun  to  sit  and  gossip  with  True  on 
the  edge  of  the  precipice  of  Anthony's  wrath,  while  he 
slumbered  serenely  overhead  t  Really,  he  would  never 
have  known.  If  I  had  not  come  home  at  all,  but 
had  walked  in  to  breakfast  he  would  have  been  just 
as  wise  —  and  he  would  n't  have  sworn  at  me  for 
disturbing  him." 

The  disturbance  seemed  to  have  upset  the  delicate 
equilibrium  of  the  Professor's  temper.  He  asked  his 
sister  in  sarcastic  tones  what  fresh  amusement  she  had 
on  to-day,  and  when  she  reluctantly  suggested  the 
gymkana,  he  spoke  plainly  and  to  the  point  on  the 
subject  of  dissipation. 

"  I  don't  like  your  being  out  morning,  noon,  and 
night  like  this  !  "  he  blustered.  "  It 's  not  a  decent  life 
for  any  girl.  People  will  say  you  are  not  properly 
looked  after  —  I  can't  be  for  ever  following  you  round, 
you  must  look  after  yourself,  and  see  that  you  don't  get 
talked  of  as  if  you  were  fast." 


120  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  But,  Anthony,"  pleaded  Margery,  trying  to  be 
reasonable  and  calm,  and  resist  the  impulse  to  point 
out  the  inaccuracies  and  inconsistencies  of  his  speech. 
"  It  is  so  very  seldom  that  I  am  out  in  the  evenings. 
And  if  I  did  stay  at  home  this  afternoon  there  would 
be  nothing  for  me  to  do.  You  know  I  never  neglect 
the  house.  If  it  interfered  with  your  comfort  in  any 
way  —  " 

"  I  don't  care,  I  don't  like  your  being  out  so  much,  — 
do  you  hear?"  (There  was  little  doubt  of  that.  The 
whole  house  could  hear  with  his  voice  at  that  pitch.) 
"  I  won't  have  my  sister  spoken  of  as  if  she  were  —  " 
He  did  pull  himself  up  in  time  before  the  actual  word, 
but  the  blow  of  the  sentence  struck  Madge  almost  as 
hard.  "  You  're  for  ever  fooling  with  that  old  ape 
Livingston,  or  Truman,  or  some  egregious  ass  in  red 
trickery !  You  'd  better  stay  at  home  for  once." 

Madge  had  held  her  breath  for  another  name,  but  to 
be  accused  of  only  Beau  Livingston  and  True  was  such 
a  relief  that  she  took  courage.  "  I  shall  do  nothing  of 
the  sort !  "  she  said  with  sudden  spirit.  "  You  do  not 
help  to  make  home  so  attractive  that  I  wish  to  stay 
there,  and  I  shall  go  out  until  you  are  in  a  better 
temper ! " 

She  did  not  stay  for  the  tornado  which  was  to  be 
expected,  but  made  her  escape  while  the  Professor  was 
still  gathering  breath  to  roar.  He  was  out  at  luncheon- 
time,  so  she  avoided  another  encounter,  and  when 
Starling  arrived,  she  drove  off  with  her  in  good  spirits, 
trying  to  put  the  whole  matter  out  of  her  mind,  as  she 
had  Vibart  and  the  garden,  and  proving  even  more 
successful.  The  necessity  of  such  practice  in  a  life 
lived  under  the  same  roof  with  the  Professor,  was 
making  Madge  an  adept  in  putting  things  out  of  her 
mind.  It  is  unwise  to  dwell  on  the  fact  that  you 
have  practically  been  called  something  that  would  not 
quite  bear  saying,  and  sworn  at  as  if  you  were  as  little 


The  Story  of  Eden  121 

worthy  of  consideration  as  a  very  much  lower  animal. 
Madge  was  afraid  that  if  she  did  begin  to  dwell  on  these 
things,  she  would  not  remain  under  the  same  roof  with 
her  half-brother  for  long,  and  there  was  enough  pleas- 
ure in  her  present  life  to  balance  the  occasional  storms 
which  she  had  to  weather,  and  to  make  her  reluctant 
to  allow  things  to  come  to  a  crisis. 

She  forgot  all  her  troubles  as  soon  as  she  got  into  the 
enclosure  before  the  stand  at  Kenilworth,  with  the 
happy  ease  of  her  youth  and  a  nature  which  was  more 
impressionable  than  imaginative.  Actual  things  could 
annoy  Madge  as  long  as  they  were  present  with  her, 
but  she  never  worried  herself  with  dwelling  on  them 
when  past,  or  picturing  them  afresh  in  the  future. 
There  were  half-a-dozen  people  to  speak  to,  and  joke 
with,  and  to  laugh  and  talk  made  sufficient  distraction 
for  her  at  the  moment. 

"  How  amazingly  fresh  you  are  ! "  Livingston  said  to 
her  in  greeting.  "  Here  are  we  with  crowsfeet  round 
our  eyes,  telling  the  tale  of  last  night's  racketing  in 
every  sickly  smile,  and  you  look  as  if  it  had  done  you 
good  !  That  is  the  worst  of  young  people  —  they  are 
such  a  horrible  warning  to  the  old  !  I  never  realised 
half  my  own  repulsiveness  until  you  appeared."  He 
looked,  himself,  as  spick  and  span  as  if  he  had  been 
going  to  bed  every  night  at  eight  o'clock,  not  a  hair 
out  of  place,  cool,  smart,  and  serene. 

"  I  was  very  sleepy  this  morning,"  Margery  con- 
fessed. "  And  Anthony  was  very  cross.  Don't  you 
think  there  ought  to  be  a  law  to  prevent  people  being 
cross  in  their  own  households  ?  It  cannot  matter  half 
so  much  to  the  outside  world,  who  can  walk  away  and 
leave  them.  I  could  n't  walk  away,  because  I  wanted 
my  breakfast.  It  is  a  melancholy  fact  that  my  sensi- 
tiveness does  not  weigh  for  a  moment  against  eggs  and 
bacon/' 

"  I  shall  certainly  have  to  chloroform  your  brother  in 


122  The  Story  of  Eden 

one  of  his  own  bottles  some  day,"  said  Livingston, 
gaily.  "  Shall  we  do  it  together  ?  We  shall  never  have 
a  moment's  peace  until  he  is  nicely  pinned  out  on  a 
card,  and  relegated  to  the  genus  Agrestis — which 
means  bore,  of  course." 

"Poor  Anthony !  I  think  I  would  spare  him  the 
card  —  I  hate  to  see  the  specimens  mounted.  They 
have  such  little  lives,  why  should  n't  they  enjoy  them?  " 

"  My  dear  Miss  Cunningham,  your  sentiments  are 
quite  horribly  sentimental  —  and  abominably  true. 
And  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  specimens  in  particular 
would  agree  with  you.  It  must  be  most  annoying  to 
be  a  sacrifice  to  Science.  I  never  could  see  any  satis- 
faction in  it  —  for  the  victim.  Apropos  of  nothing, 
are  you  not  looking  forward  to  seeing  the  '  Owl '  next 
week?" 

The 'Owl'?" 

"  The  paper,  —  surely  you  know  the  '  Owl '  ?  It  is  the 
smartest  little  local  rag  that  ever  veiled  naughty  scan- 
dals in  wit.  Our  Home  society  papers  might  go  to 
school  to  the  '  Owl.'  I  wonder  what  they  will  have  to  say 
of  last  night's  dance." 

"  I  remember  now  hearing  something  about  an  'Owl ' 
cake." 

"  That  is  it.  They  give  away  a  cake  every  week  to 
the  local  celebrity  who  has  done  the  stupidest  thing 
within  those  eight  days,  —  made  a  fool  of  himself,  or 
herself,  in  fact !  The  beauty  of  it  is  that  they  are  nearly 
always  right!  Johnnie  Dodd  has  had  it  twice,  and 
Drysdale  once.  To  take  the  cake  for  stupidity  is  an 
admirable  chastening.  Oh,  Wynberg  would  not  be 
Wynberg  without  its  bird  of  wisdom,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  other  suburbs." 

"Has  Anthony  ever  taken  the  cake?"  asked  An- 
thony's sister  with  caution,  but  intense  appreciation. 

"  Not  yet,  but  you  have  but  to  wait,  —  if  I  know 
anything  of  human  nature  the  '  Owl '  will  yet  avenge  your 


The  Story  of  Eden  123 

wrongs.     It  is  a  witty,  wicked  little  publication.     I  '11 
tell  you  what  they  suggested  about  Mrs.  Cromo  Dame.'' 

"What  are  you  two  talking  about?"  asked  Polly 
Harbord,  coming  up  to  them  gaily. 

"  —  and  so  my  friend  shot  the  tiger  in  the  jungle  ! " 
said  Beau,  looking  straight  at  Margery. 

"  Oh,  if  that  is  it,  I  am  very  glad  I  came.  Do  tell 
me  what  he  was  saying,  Madge!  You  don't  know  that 
sentence,  do  you  ?  Mr.  Livingston  always  uses  it  when 
he  is  interrupted  in  saying  something  he  should  not, 
and  with  a  few  —  a  very  few  people  —  it  has  really  been 
taken  for  the  end  of  a  story." 

"  We  had  not  reached  the  point,  I  am  afraid,"  said 
Margery,  laughing.  "  So  I  do  not  know  if  Mr.  Living- 
ston was  going  to  say  anything  he  should  not.  If  he 
was,  I  am  rather  sorry  that  you  came  just  then.  Who 
is  that  girl  in  pink  talking  to  True,  Polly?  " 

"  Where  ?  Oh,  that  is  the  Ringden  girl.  Her  peo- 
ple have  gone  up  to  Kimberley  for  her  father's  health, 
and  they  left  her  here  in  a  boarding-house.  She  has 
left  that  boarding-house,  by  the  way." 

"  No,  has  she?  "  said  Livingston.  "  Did  she  become 
too  pressing  in  her  attentions  to  the  curate  ?  I  know 
there  was  a  curate  staying  there,  because  I  saw  the 
greengrocer  leaving  a  perfect  load  of  bananas  one  day. 
Have  you  ever  noticed  that  curates  always  eat  any 
quantity  of  banana,  Miss  Cunningham  ?  They  feed  upon 
it  constantly,  and  it  makes  them  pulpy.  Go  on,  Miss 
Harbord,  what  was  the  reason  they  turned  Miss  Ring- 
den  out?" 

"  She  walked  in  her  sleep,"  said  Polly,  with  the 
laughter  beginning  to  punctuate  her  words.  "  They 
said  they  really  couldn't  be  responsible  for  her.  They 
never  knew  where  she  would  be  during  the  night." 

"  How  awkward !  I  suppose  she  took  a  leaf  out  of 
Johnnie  Dodd's  book  and  said, '  I  will  come  in  !  I  will 
come  in  1 '  " 


124  The  Story  of  Eden 

Madge  joined  in  the  laughter  which  followed.  She 
had  outgrown  her  objection  to  Polly's  little  stories,  they 
only  amused  her  now.  She  looked  at  the  girl  in  pink, 
and  said,  "  Polly,  how  can  you  !  poor  girl !  I  daresay 
it 's  a  great  misfortune  for  her." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Livingston.  "  The  misfortune  is 
probably  somebody  else's  doing  —  or  undoing." 

"Well,  of  course  it  isn't  her  fault,"  said  Polly. 
"She  couldn't  help  it." 

"  I  have  always  noticed  that  the  things  we  cannot 
help  are  those  for  which  we  are  most  responsible,"  re- 
marked Beau.  "Shall  we  go  and  have  tea?  I  saw 
Forrester  a  minute  ago.  He  will  take  us  into  the  Regi- 
mental tent." 

As  they  went  through  the  door  in  the  wall,  and  down 
the  steep  steps  to  the  Paddock,  —  the  new  Stand  was 
not  built  in  those  days,  and  the  approaches  to  the  old 
were  elementary,  —  Truman  joined  them.  "  Going  to 
have  tea?"  he  said.  "  Come  to  our  tent,  please.  The 
City  Club  have  got  one  too,  —  it 's  not  so  nice  as  ours." 
He  fell  into  step  beside  Madge  and  beamed  at  her. 
"  My  little  pigs  are  quite  well,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of 
distinct  congratulation.  Madge  turned  and  stared  at 
him ;  some  vague  idea  that  she  had  hitherto  mistaken 
his  calling,  and  that  he  was  a  farmer  rather  than  a  sol- 
dier, floated  through  her  mind.  "  And  the  garden  is 
coming  on  nicely,"  he  added. 

"True,  what  do  you  mean?  " 

"  Are  you  Mess  President  this  week?"  asked  Polly. 
"  Or  have  you  only  taken  over  the  live-stock?  " 

"  Both.  I  'm  very  busy.  You  see,"  he  said  to  Madge, 
"  the  Regiment  which  was  here  before  us,  left  us  three 
little  pigs  —  " 

"But  where  on  earth  did  they  get  them?" 

"  I  don't  know,  I  'm  sure,  but  they  are  with  us  now. 
I  find  that  fact  quite  sufficient.  They  all  escaped  last 
Sunday  night  and  rushed  round  the  Camp.  I  had  three 


The  Story  of  Eden  125 

fellows  dining  with  me.  They  all  went  to  help.  It  was 
the  best  entertainment  I  have  ever  succeeded  in  giving." 

"  Did  you  go  yourself?  " 

"  No,"  said  True,  thoughtfully,  "  I  sat  still  and  waited 
until  it  was  all  over.  I  see  a  good  deal  of  the  pigs  in 
everyday  life.  I  thought  if  it  were  a  real  distraction  to 
other  people  they  might  as  well  have  it." 

"  How 's  the  garden,  True  ? "  Livingston  said. 

"  Coming  on,  but  slowly.  It  has  been  rather  neg- 
lected, but  there  are  plenty  of  white  violets." 

"  Are  there  ?  "  said  Madge.  "  Oh,  do  send  me  some. 
I  love  them." 

"  Of  course  I  will,  —  as  many  as  you  like.  I  did  n't 
know  you  would  care  for  them.  Shall  I  bring  them 
down  to-night  —  after  Mess  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Margery,  with  a  hurried  breath.  "  Not 
to-night  —  I  think.  Anthony  has  been  so  cross  all  day 
—  if  any  one  came  in  this  evening  and  disturbed  his 
after-dinner  sleep  I  don't  like  to  think  of  the  conse- 
quences." 

"  I  could  ask  for  you  —  or  merely  leave  them  at  the 
door." 

"  He  would  be  sure  to  wake  or  hear  an  altercation  or 
something,"  said  Madge.  "  No,  don't  send  them  to- 
night —  I  am  not  in  such  a  hurry  as  all  that.  I  should 
like  them  on  Wednesday,  please.  I  will  wear  them  to 
tennis  at  Traveller's  Rest.  (What  a  detestable  hypo- 
crite I  am !  But  I  can't  have  him  coming  to-night. 
What  should  I  do  if  they  met !)  Isn't  it  a  pity  that 
the  tennis  is  nearly  over?  "  she  added  aloud. 

"  Yes.  But  there 's  hockey  later  on.  Have  you 
joined  the  Ladies'  Club?" 

"  No,  I  should  like  to." 

"I  am  Umpire,"  said  True,  serenely.  They  had 
reached  the  tent  as  he  spoke,  and  found  themselves 
standing  by  the  tables  with  Clive  Forrester  and  Captain 
Ransom. 


126  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  How  d'  ye  do?"  Forrester  said.  "  Is  True  talking 
about  the  Hockey?  You  know  the  reason  he  is  Um- 
pire, Miss  Cunningham  ?  " 

"  No,  I  have  only  just  heard  of  the  Club." 

"  Well,  the  ladies  wanted  an  Umpire,  but  for  many 
reasons  they  would  not  have  another  lady  —  still  less 
would  they  have  a  man.  A  way  out  of  the  difficulty 
was  discovered  by  some  one  suggesting  that  they  might 
have  True." 

"What  a  shame  !  "  Margery  said,  with  a  glance  at 
True,  who  stood  by  smiling. 

"  I  don't  mind,"  he  said.     "  I  like  being  Umpire." 

"  You  bet  he  does,  Miss  Cunningham.  The  girls  get 
lots  of  tumbles,  and  True  has  to  pick  them  all  up.  I 
don't  think  it 's  fair  that  he  should  have  it  all  to  him- 
self. There  is  a  tale  —  " 

"  Shut  up,  Forrester  !  "  True  said,  quickly,  but  smil- 
ing as  amicably  as  ever.  "  Shall  I  get  you  some  more 
tea,  Lady?" 

"No,  thanks.  I  want  to  go  and  bet  on  the  races 
now  !  Are  you  going  to  plunge,  Mr.  Livingston?  " 

"  No,  I  shall  leave  that  to  Merry  Andrew  over  there  !  " 
He  pointed  with  his  stick  to  a  horse  which  the  Kaffir 
groom  was  trying  vainly  to  lead  round  the  paddock. 
"Who  is  riding  him?  " 

"V.  C."  said  Forrester,  carelessly.  "He  will  have 
his  work  cut  out." 

"  That  is  the  man  you  said  I  should  n't  appreciate 
yet,"  said  Margery,  rather  resentfully,  to  Livingston. 
"  And  you  never  introduced  him  to  me,  though  he 
was  in  our  carriage  the  other  night." 

"  Of  course  I  did  n't.  I  have  too  much  respect  for 
Cayley !  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  but  it  sounds  rude." 

"Then  don't  listen  to  it.  One  of  the  choicest 
secrets  of  this  life  is  never  to  listen  to  disagreeable 
things.  It  would  be  like  acknowledging  the  acquaint- 
ance of  an  ill-bred  person  1 " 


The  Story  of  Eden  127 

"  Well,  I  sha'n't  stay  here  to  run  the  chance  of  hear- 
ing !  True,  take  me  back  to  the  ring,  will  you,  and 
put  half  a  sovereign  on  anything  you  like  for  me?" 

"  I  '11  come  too,"  Polly  said.  "  I  want  to  try  the 
totalisator."  Their  voices  died  away  into  distance. 
Livingston  and  Forrester  stood  for  a  moment  outside 
the  tent,  and  watched  the  crowd  go  by. 

"  Where  's  Vibart?  "  Livingston  said  suddenly. 

"  In  Cape  Town.  He  is  on  duty  at  Government 
House  to-day,"  Forrester  responded.  "  I  wonder  if 
Mrs.  Hand-painted  Lady  would  like  to  ask  me  the 
same  question?  There  she  goes  with  her  particular 
friend  Miss  Montfort." 

"  They  are  a  pretty  pair  !  "  Livingston  acknowledged 
with  open  amusement.  "  I  doubt  if  there  is  much  to 
choose  between  them." 

"Except  the  wedding-ring.  You  forget  Cromo 
Dame.  He  is  a  small  detail,  I  admit.  Still  he  is  a 
detail." 

"  Don't  meddle  with  Miss  Montfort,  whatever  you 
do,"  said  Beau,  as  he  lifted  his  hat  gracefully  to  the 
lady  in  question.  "  When  a  woman  knows  how  to 
dress  as  well  as  that,  she  has  brains." 

"  No  tha-anks !  Don't  care  to  come  after  the 
Tracker.  He  ran  her  to  earth  first." 

"  He  's  a  clever  devil  to  play  those  two  women  to- 
gether— I  'd  rather  tackle  them  a  thousand  miles  or 
so  apart." 

"  Oh,  he 's  dropped  Miss  Montfort  long  since.  She  's 
after  V.  C.,  and  the  Tracker's  got  another  attrac- 
tion! He's  on  the  trail  already,"  Forrester  laughed 
significantly. 

"  How  about  that  Up  Country  work  that  V.  C.  was 
after?  Will  he  get  it ?" 

"What  do  you  think?  "  said  Forrester,  coolly,  as  he 
lit  a  cigarette.  "  He  is  useful  to  keep  Miss  Montfort 
employed  !  "  —  he  paused  and  blew  out  the  match. 


128  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  If  he  were  away  the  Tracker  might  find  himself  in 
difficulties,  —  so  —  I  think  —  V.  C.  will  be  —  "  The 
match  was  tossed  lightly  onto  the  burnt  grass. 

"  What  a  fool  V.  C.  must  be  to  spin  his  own  snare 
like  that  I  "  said  Livingston,  looking  down  at  the  match 
as  though  he  spoke  of  it.  "  He  might  reckon  on  being 
tossed  aside.  It 's  a  pity  he  bets  —  his  energies  might 
be  better  expended." 

Forrester  blew  a  ring  of  smoke  into  the  clear  air. 
" '  So  the  fool  was  stripped  to  his  foolish  hide  ! '  "  he 
hummed.  "  Heard  that  our  new  Chief  is  coming 
out?" 

"  No  !  Have  they  really  found  you  a  Colonel  at 
last?  Vibart  is  still  in  command,  I  suppose?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  until  this  new  man  takes  it  over.  Then 
he  is  going  Home." 

"  Do  you  know  him?  " 

"Who?  The  Colonel?  No.  He's  been  in  the 
ist  Batta'ion  for  ages  —  he's  quite  an  old  fellow.  I 
should  think  they  hope  to  finish  him  up  out  here  !  We 
hear  that  he  has  been  a  beauty  in  his  day." 

"When  does  he  come?  " 

"  Let's  see  —  this  is  April.     About  July,  I  expect." 

"  Vibart  did  n't  tell  me  he  was  going  Home,"  Liv- 
ingston said  deliberately.  "  But  I  suppose  he  did  n't 
know  himself  until  lately.  He  will  leave  many  widows 
behind ! " 

"  He  will  leave  many  things  behind  —  unofficially !  " 
said  Forrester,  carelessly.  "  There  's  the  starting  bell ! 
Come  along —  V.  C.  is  riding." 

Years  afterwards  that  scene  came  back  to  Margery, 
though  she  was  not  especially  interested  at  the  moment ; 
but  the  long,  wind-swept  race-course,  the  broken  land 
all  round,  the  velvet  line  of  mountains  drifting  away 
into  infinite  distance,  and  the  sloping  sunlight  on  the 
Flats,  always  brought  that  particular  race  to  her  mind, 
and  she  thought  that  the  man  who  came  in  so  cleanly 


The  Story  of  Eden  129 

past  the  post  and  gained  such  thunders  of  applause,  had 
been  happier  if  his  mount  had  succeeded  in  throwing 
him  and  trampling  out  his  life  in  the  moment  of  his 
triumph,  for  V.  C.  won,  and  Madge  went  home  the 
richer  by  three  pounds  for  the  half-sovereign  she 
had  staked  on  Merry  Andrew. 

She  drove  home  with  the  Dodds  and  True.  Mrs. 
Johnnie  was  prone  to  "mother"  Margery,  which  did 
her  good,  and  Starling  left  a  wholesome  flavour  in  her 
mouth.  Coupled  with  the  pleasure  of  the  afternoon, 
and  the  release  from  any  strain  on  her  temper,  the 
effect  on  Madge  was  one  of  righteousness  and  peace. 
She  dressed  for  dinner  with  unusual  care,  and  with 
some  idea  of  pleasing  her  brother,  not  of  arraying  her- 
self for  the  rendezvous  in  the  garden,  which  she  had 
decided  not  to  keep.  "  I  won't  go  out  at  all,"  she 
thought.  "  He  may  think  I  could  n't  come,  or  he 
may  not  —  I  don't  care  which.  If  the  latter,  so  much 
the  better,  for  then  he  won't  try  it  on  again.  I  shall  \>Q 
sorry  if  it  all  comes  to  an  end  —  there  is  no  denying  it. 
I  don't  dare  to  think  how  fond  I  have  grown  of  him. 
But  that 's  no  reason  why  I  should  meet  him  under  the 
rose  after  dark.  I  am  almost  sure  Starling  would  n't, 

—  Polly  might,  out  of  sheer  devilment,  and  I  dare- 
say there  would   be  no   harm   in  it,  but  —  I  think  I 
won't. 

"  I  want  to  be  petted  to-night  —  oh,  so  badly  !  How 
I  envy  Starling  !  There  is  always  some  one  to  admire 
her  and  make  a  fuss  over  her.  If  only  some  one  would 
over  me  !  —  but  the  one  person  who  would  like  to  I 
have  to  snub  !  I  wish  Anthony  would  just  say  one 
little  approving  sentence  to  me  now  and  then  —  it 
would  be  so  much  easier  to  try  and  make  things  go 
as  he  pleases,  and  I  shouldn't  want  other  people  to 
praise  me  so  much.  But  he  never  gets  beyond  a  grunt 

—  you  can't  make  anything  out  of  a  grunt !  "     (She 
laughed  at  her  reflection  in  the  glass.)     "  You   look 

9 


130  The  Story  of  Eden 

rather  nice,  Madge  !  I  must  say  it,  because  no  one 
else  will.  I  like  you  in  white  fluffy  things,  my  dear, 
and  you  have  done  your  hair  very  nicely.  Perhaps 
Anthony  will  notice  me  to-night,  and  say  I  look 
'  decent '  —  I  think  that  is  his  highest  praise.  At 
any  rate  I  '11  be  very  sweet  to  him." 

She  was  already  in  her  place  when  the  Professor 
came  in  to  dinner,  remembering  that  he  disliked  being 
kept  waiting.  He  took  his  place  in  silence,  and  helped 
himself  to  fish  without  looking  at  his  sister.  The  radi- 
^nt  brightness  of  her  face  faded  a  little,  but  she  spoke 
courteously  down  the  daintily  dressed  table. 

"  Did  you  go  for  a  ride,  Anthony?  " 

"Yes." 

The  monosyllable  was  not  encouraging.  Madge 
tried  again. 

"  Where  did  you  go  ?  " 

"  Out  towards  Groote  Schuur." 

"  Oh,  how  pretty  it  must  have  looked  this  after- 
noon !  Wasn't  the  light  lovely?" 

"  I  wish  you  would  eat  your  dinner,  and  not  keep 
on  chattering  !  "  said  the  Professor.  "  You  know  I  hate 
having  to  talk  with  my  mouth  full.  It 's  a  disgusting 
habit  —  which  does  n't  appear  to  have  occurred  to 
you  !  " 

Margery  flushed  with  mortification.  She  allowed  three 
courses  to  slide  away  before  she  made  another  attempt, 
and  then  was  careful  to  speak  while  the  dishes  were 
removed. 

"  Shall  we  have  our  coffee  on  the  stoep  to-night?  It 
is  quite  warm  out  of  doors.  Or  would  you  rather  have 
it  here  as  usual?  I  thought  perhaps  the  stoep  would 
be  a  change." 

"  I  shall  have  mine  here.  I  have  no  desire  to 
catch  cold  —  it  is  absurd  to  think  of  sitting  out  of 
doors  on  an  April  night,  as  if  it  were  February ! 
However"  —  with  an  eminently  disagreeable  laugh  — 


The  Story  of  Eden  131 

"  pray  do  so  if  you  like  !  I  am  sure  I  don't  want  to 
detain  you  here.  You  are  quite  at  liberty  to  go.  You 
generally  do  as  you  please  without  any  reference  to  my 
wishes  !  " 

All  her  patient  efforts  and  forbearance  since  she  had 
come  out  from  England,  rose  up  before  Margery's  mind 
in  grinning  mockery.  How  many  times  at  first  had  she 
submitted  her  plans  for  the  day  only  to  be  told  to 
do  as  she  pleased  as  long  as  she  did  not  bother  (the 
Professor  felt  no  slightest  interest  in  her  unimportant 
comings  and  goings  ! )  and  the  meals  were  properly 
cooked  and  punctual !  A  great  rage  at  the  injustice 
of  the  attack  seized  her,  and  she  looked  at  him  down 
the  table  with  brilliantly  wet  eyes.  It  was  on  the  tip 
of  her  tongue  to  say  that  she  would  take  him  at  his 
word  for  the  future ;  and  then  with  a  last  saving  grace 
her  own  tears  quenched  her  wrath.  She  got  up  indeed 
to  leave  the  room,  but  as  she  passed  her  brother's 
chair  she  paused  and  laid  a  generous  little  hand  on  his 
shoulder.  It  was  the  nearest  thing  to  a  caress  that  she 
had  ever  offered  him. 

"  You  are  cross,  Anthony,  but  I  did  n't  mean  to 
bother  you  really.  I  only  thought  we  might  have  sat 
and  talked  a  little  after  dinner  to-night.  It 's  so  dull 
in  the  evenings  !  "  said  Madge,  with  a  little  sigh  for 
the  amusement  forborne,  and  her  own  good  resolu- 
tions. 

But  the  Professor's  patience  had  been  taxed  as  far 
as  he  ever  allowed  it,  and  his  sister's  touch  had  made 
him  jump,  being  totally  unexpected.  He  was  a  nervous 
man,  and  he  found  jumping  painful ;  when  Anthony 
Cunningham  suffered  inconvenience  of  any  kind  he 
generally  turned  and  rent  the  thing  nearest  him  that 
was  weaker  than  himself.  With  an  oath,  he  seized  the 
girl's  hand  as  it  lay  lightly  on  his  shoulder,  and  flung 
her  from  him  with  such  violence  that  she  nearly  fell, 
the  attack  taking  her  absolutely  by  surprise  in  her 
turn. 


132  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  You  damned  little  fool !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  What 
on  earth  do  you  want  trying  to  paw  me,  and  startling 
me  like  that?  Go  to  the  devil,  if  you  like  —  but  let 
me  alone  if  you  are  wise  !  I  won't  have  it,  do  you 
hear?"  (The  servants  did,  and  said  that,  "Massa  was 
screechin'  like  a  devil !  ")  "You  've  gone  contrary  to 
my  wishes  all  day,  and  I  don't  want  to  see  any  more  of 
you  to-night  —  " 

But  Margery  had  fled.  She  ran  swiftly  and  blindly 
through  the  house  along  the  stoep,  and  down  into  the 
solemn  darkness  of  the  garden  which  stretched  dim 
arms  of  trees  to  receive  her,  and  drew  her  into  the 
night.  She  could  not  run  and  cry  too,  but  she  panted 
against  the  sobs,  until  she  threw  herself  down  in  the 
arbour,  and  lay  there,  quivering  and  shaking  through 
every  excitable  nerve  and  pulse. 

"  He  struck  me  —  almost  —  Oh,  he  will  strike  me 
before  we  have  done  ! "  she  gasped,  cowering  down 
against  the  warm  ground.  The  arbour  was  roughly 
formed  of  two  large-leaved  trees  laced  together,  and 
the  seat  was  simply  a  broad  step  cut  in  the  high  bank 
which  bounded  the  vineyard.  The  trees  grew  each 
side  of  the  step,  which  had  become  overgrown  with 
green  turf,  but  was  perfectly  dry  and  soft.  Margery 
lay  full  length  on  this  turf-seat,  hardly  conscious  of  any- 
thing but  the  relief  of  the  stillness  and  darkness  and  the 
touch  of  the  grass  beneath  her,  which  somehow  com- 
forted her  as  though  Mother  Earth  were  really  extend- 
ing a  healing  power  through  every  blade  and  the  rustle 
of  the  giant  leaves  close  overhead.  The  vineyard  was 
on  a  lower  level  than  the  house,  some  feet  below  the 
drive  and  the  flower  garden,  from  which  a  flight  of 
stone  steps  led  down  into  it,  and  the  arbour  being  at 
the  further  end  she  felt  herself  a  long  way  off  from 
Anthony,  and  that  terrible  dinner-table,  and  all  the 
horror  of  the  last  half- hour. 

After  a  while  she  grew  quieter.     Her  jarred  nerves 


The  Story  of  Eden  133 

quivered  into  the  silence,  and  she  sat  up  and  pushed 
back  the  loosened  hair  from  her  face.  "  I  will  never 
touch  him  again  willingly,"  she  said  with  set  lips.  "  I 
will  be  his  housekeeper,  and  see  that  things  go  smoothly 
for  the  sake  of  my  board  and  lodging.  Beyond  that 
we  will  be  less  to  each  other  than  many  a  master  and 
servant.  I  will  go  my  own  way,  as  he  advised  —  *  to  the 
devil,'  if  the  fancy  takes  me  ! "  She  sat  still  on  the 
grassy  seat,  her  hands  clasped  on  her  knees,  and  her 
face  turned  blindly  to  the  vineyard.  She  had  forgotten 
Vibart,  everything  but  the  crisis  she  had  come  through, 
and  she  remained  motionless,  waiting  for  the  patience 
of  the  night  to  sink  into  her  heart  and  dissipate  the 
horrible  mental  pain  and  fear  that  were  gradually  dying 
out  of  her  brain.  But  even  as  she  sat  there,  a  soft 
white  blot  upon  the  darkness  of  the  arbour,  something 
caught  her  ear, —  her  clasped  hands  tightened,  and  she 
turned  her  face  with  quickened  breath,  and  remem- 
brance struggling  back  to  her  mind. 

What  was  it  ?  A  rustling  of  leaves,  —  the  moving  of 
boughs,  —  a  step,  as  if  some  one  had  leapt  lightly  down 
the  bank  below  the  lane;  then  silence,  while  Madge 
and  that  Something  approaching  her,  both  waited  to 
see  if  it  had  been  overheard  ;  then  a  quick,  impatient 
tread  coming  along  the  path,  and  then  a  dark  form 
blotting  out  the  entrance  of  the  arbour,  and  while  she 
still  held  her  breath,  two  arms  outstretched  to  her  into 
which  she  sprang. 

"  Madge  ! "  Vibart  whispered  laughing.  "  Are  you 
sure  no  one  heard  me  ?  " 

"  You  can  hide  in  the  bushes  if  they  did  !  "  she 
whispered  back  recklessly.  A  sudden  reaction  from 
her  former  mood  of  prudence,  and  then  the  later  strain, 
were  making  her  feel  as  if  she  were  light-headed.  With 
less  reserve  than  she  had  ever  shown  him,  she  put  her 
bare  arms  round  his  neck  and  caressed  him. 
^  "You  darling,  how  nice  you  look  !"  he  said  press- 


134  The  Story  of  Eden 

ing  her  fondly,  and  then  holding  her  away  from  him  to 
look  at  her.  "  What  a  pretty  frock  !  " 

"  Oh,  you  are  appreciative  !  "  Madge  said  with  a  little 
sympathetic  sigh  for  her  past  disappointment.  "  Do 
you  know,  I  thought  I  looked  rather  nice  to-night ! " 

"Of  course  you  do  —  you  are  the  prettiest  girl 
round  about  here,  and  it  is  perfectly  sweet  of  you 
to  make  yourself  so  nice  for  me  ! "  Margery  did  not 
contradict  him,  or  tell  him  how  nearly  she  had  not 
come  at  all.  She  turned  with  a  shudder  from  the 
mere  remembrance  of  her  good  intentions,  connected 
as  they  were  with  her  brother,  and  basked  in  Vibart's 
approval.  They  sat  down  on  the  wide  grassy  seat,  and 
he  put  his  arm  round  her,  and  expressed  a  tender 
anxiety  as  to  her  bare  arms  and  neck  —  would  she 
catch  cold  ?  —  was  she  sure  she  was  warm  enough  ?  It 
was  delightful  to  be  so  much  considered  and  petted. 
"  Let  me  wrap  you  in  my  riding  cloak,"  he  said,  hastily 
divesting  himself  of  the  heavy  folds  which  afforded  him 
a  safe  disguise.  Madge  could  see  the  gold  lace  on 
his  uniform  glimmer  in  the  starlit  darkness.  "Your 
arms  are  quite  cold  !  —  how  nice  and  soft  too,  ar'  n't 
they?" 

"  Oh,  no,  do  keep  your  cloak !  "  she  said,  pushing 
his  head  away  gently  as  he  stooped  to  press  his  lips  to 
the  smooth  chilled  skin.  "  I  am  afraid  you  might  be 
seen." 

"  I  am  quite  safe  in  here.  I  threw  this  thing  on 
and  came  straight  down  from  Mess,  on  the  plea  of 
writing  official  letters,  and  seeing  Livingston  !  " 

They  both  laughed  softly.  "  How  fortunate  that  he 
lives  near  here,  and  that  you  must  take  the  same  road 
to  reach  him  and  us  !  "  she  said.  "  But  supposing 
some  one  had  been  coming  down  too,  and  had  offered 
to  walk  with  you?" 

"  I  don't  think  they  would  !  "  said  the  Tracker,  with 
a  peculiar  smile.  "  Anyhow  I  should  have  managed  to 


The  Story  of  Eden  135 

turn  up  somehow.  I  could  stay  away  from  Mess  if 
that  were  all.  Now  tell  me  what  you  have  been  doing 
all  day  !  " 

He  said  no  more  of  talking  over  the  question  of 
their  greater  intercourse,  or  persuading  her,  as  he  had 
done  formerly ;  perhaps  he  recognised  that  some  un- 
known agency  had  done  it  for  him.  Madge  lingered 
as  long  as  she  dared,  and  then  stood  with  fast  beating 
heart  while  he  made  his  stealthy  way  back  through 
the  gap  in  the  hedge,  and  she  heard  his  steps  die  away 
safely  down  the  lane.  She  laughed  a  little  as  she  went 
back  to  the  house,  there  had  been  something  so  sug- 
gestive of  a  burglar  in  Vibart's  cloaked  figure,  —  the 
whole  incident  was  rather  amusing,  and  he  had  so 
entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  thing  that  it  doubled  the 
enjoyment.  It  was  so  charming  to  laugh  !  And  some- 
how the  affair  was  beginning  to  be  exciting  and  in- 
tensely interesting,  but  no  more  serious  or  terrifying. 
One  could  not  be  solemn  with  a  fellow-conspirator  who 
was  so  gay,  so  thoroughly  a  ban  camaradc.  Only  one 
sentence  afterwards  recurred  to  her  mind  to  puzzle 
her ;  he  had  several  times  referred  to  their  being  "  all 
in  all  to  each  other  "  with  a  note  of  deeper  passion  in 
his  voice.  What  did  he  mean  ?  But  the  next  moment 
she  remembered  the  pressure  of  his  arms  and  his  ten- 
derness only,  and  forgot  the  mere  words.  She  blushed 
happily,  and  her  senses  lulled  her  brain  to  rest  and  not 
to  question. 

As  her  foot  crossed  the  threshold  of  the  house  her 
lips  tightened.  She  went  straight  to  her  room  without 
meeting  her  brother  again  that  night,  but  if  anything 
were  wanted  to  harden  her  in  the  course  she  was  pur- 
suing it  was  ready  to  hand  in  the  memory  of  him.  Her 
last  thought  was,  however,  again  of  Vibart,  and  she 
smiled  a  little  as  she  fell  asleep. 


CHAPTER  VII 

44  Only  of  one  tree  eat  not  in  Eden  ; 

(And  O  the  bower  and  the  hour  I) 
All  save  one  I  give  to  thy  freewill,  — 
The  Tree  of  Knowledge  of  Good  and  Evil!' 

WHATEVER  his  disadvantages  as  a  domestic  companion 
might  be,  Professor  Cunningham  possessed  a  certain 
value  to  the  world  at  large,  particularly  that  portion  of 
it  devoted  to  the  Science  of  Insect  Life.  He  was  an 
authority  on  Coleoptera,  and  he  was  writing  a  treatise 
on  the  larva  of  a  particularly  repulsive  Articulate,  which 
absorbed  his  time.  In  a  moment  of  expansion  he 
once  described  a  portion  of  his  morning's  researches 
at  the  luncheon-table  to  his  sister,  who  did  her  best 
not  to  shudder.  A  curious  malformation  had  come 
under  his  notice  in  the  elytra  of  a  certain  bug,  and  he 
mentioned  it  as  a  point  of  unavoidable  interest,  even  to 
Madge,  who  quietly  pushed  away  her  plate  as  soon  as 
she  began  to  follow  the  thread  of  his  discourse,  and  ate 
no  more  at  that  meal.  She  did  not  tell  him  so,  but  the 
dread  of  her  life  was  the  common  or  kitchen  black 
beetle,  —  blatta,  the  Professor  would  have  called  it,  — 
and  the  fear  of  his  living  specimens  escaping  kept  her 
religiously  out  of  his  study. 

She  did  not,  under  these  circumstances,  care  to  ex- 
press much  interest  in  his  pursuits,  and  knew  as  little 
as  possible  of  what  went  on  behind  the  green  baize 
door  which  closed  him  in  from  half-past  nine  in  the 
morning  until  half-past  one,  and  frequently  in  the  later 
hours  of  the  day.  It  was  a  total  surprise,  therefore, 
when  he  announced  one  morning  that  he  was  going 
away  for  a  week  or  ten  days  to  Grahamstown  in  a 


The  Story  of  Eden  137 

search  foi  bacteriological  information  at  the  Institute 
there.  Bacteria  were  not  rightly  his  branch  of  science, 
but  a  side  issue  in  an  entomological  journal  had  opened 
up  a  question  of  some  interest  to  him,  and  he  required 
certain  data  to  establish  the  relationship  of  bacteria 
and  the  lowest  forms  of  insect  life,  such  as  — 

"  Oh  !  "  interrupted  Madge,  with  polite  haste,  "  and 
when  do  you  think  of  going?  " 

"  I  am  starting  on  Monday,"  said  the  Professor, — 
this  was  Friday.  "  You  need  not  pack  my  bag  until 
the  Sunday  night." 

("J  forgot  I  was  valet  as  well  as  housekeeper  and 
head  cook  !  "  thought  Madge.  "  I  am  certain  to  put 
in  all  the  wrong  things,  and  fold  the  others  so  that  they 
crease.  And  Anthony  is  so  particular  !  ")  "  And  how 
long  do  you  think  of  staying?"  she  asked. 

"  How  can  I  possibly  tell !  "  said  her  brother,  testily. 
"  It  depends  on  the  work  I  find  to  do,  and  various 
other  things.  I  am  not  likely  to  be  away  more  than 
a  fortnight  in  any  case.  It  will  be  a  little  holiday  for 
me,  and  set  me  up  for  the  winter." 

"  I  suppose  you  wish  the  house  to  go  on  in  your 
absence  the  same  as  when  you  are  here  ?  " 

"  Of  course." 

She  had  purposely  not  suggested  the  propriety  of 
having  any  one  to  stay  with  her,  hoping  that  if  she  took 
it  for  granted  that  she  should  remain  alone  he  would 
do  so  also ;  but  a  hot  blush  dyed  her  face  suddenly  as 
she  realised  why  she  did  not  want  an  older  woman 
with  her.  Eyes  sharper  than  her  brother's,  and  some 
one  who  would  not  go  to  sleep  after  dinner  or  take  soli- 
tary rides  in  the  afternoon,  were  not  desirable  to  Madge 
just  now.  She  said,  "  I  will  see  about  your  clothes, 
if  you  will  just  put  out  what  you  want  packed,"  and 
dropped  the  subject.  It  was  the  longest  conversation 
she  had  had  with  her  brother  since  he  had  thrown  her 
from  him  after  the  disastrous  dinner,  and  that  was  some 


138  The  Story  of  Eden 

weeks  ago.  The  hot-house  properties  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood had  had  their  influence  on  her  intimacy  with 
Vibart  in  the  mean  time.  Nothing  of  mental  growth 
stands  still,  but  in  Wynberg  events  develop  from  inci- 
dents as  tall  plants  do  from  tiny  seeds. 

Anthony  Cunningham  ordered  his  horse,  as  usual,  at 
four  o'clock  that  afternoon,  and  Madge  saw  him  ride 
away  in  the  sunshine  as  she  stood  at  the  drawing-room 
window.  It  was  still  unusually  hot  for  the  time  of  year, 
and  every  available  air  space  was  open.  Madge  had 
contrived  to  make  her  drawing-room  pretty,  in  spite  of 
the  furniture,  and  she  sat  down  by  the  tea-table  as  if  wait- 
ing for  some  one.  At  twenty  minutes  past  four  he 
came  —  an  irreproachable  caller,  come  to  pay  a  formal 
visit,  until  the  Kaffir  girl  had  announced,  "  Majore 
Vibet,"  and  her  soft  flat-footed  tread  had  departed. 
With  the  shutting  of  the  door,  Vibart's  conventional 
approach  to  his  hostess  vanished.  He  kissed  her 
warmly,  and  drew  her  down  onto  the  sofa  beside  him. 

"  I'm  sorry  I  could  n't  come  round  last  night,  little 
woman,"  he  said.  "  And  I  sha'n  't  be  able  to  come  to- 
night, I  'm  afraid.  It 's  guest  night  this  week,  instead  of 
Tuesday." 

"  So  it  is  —  what  a  bother  !  Perhaps  it 's  safer  though. 
I  'm  always  afraid  of  the  servants  seeing  me  come  in. 
Jack,  I  've  got  some  news  for  you.  Will  you  have  some 
tea?" 

"Please.  What's  the  news?  Come  and  sit  beside 
me  again  when  you  've  poured  the  tea  out  —  I  don't 
like  you  all  across  the  room." 

Margery  laughed  at  him  radiantly,  over  the  tea-ser- 
vice, and  handed  him  his  cup.  "  Anthony  calmly  an- 
nounced, this  morning,  that  he  was  going  away  ! "  she 
said,  as  she  sat  down  beside  him  again. 

"  The  deuce  he  is  !     When?  " 

"  On  Monday." 

"And  you?" 


The  Story  of  Eden  139 

•  I  am  to  stop  here  in  lonely  splendour  ! " 

"  By  Jove,  that 's  just  what  we  wanted  !  "  A  shade 
of  something  —  calculation  or  thought  —  crossed  his 
face.  He  glanced  at  Madge  as  if  considering,  but  ap- 
parently abandoned  his  project.  "  We  '11  have  a  fine 
time,  won't  we,  ma  mie  ?  I  'm  sorry  I  'm  so  taken  up 
with  the  General  just  now,  but  I  don't  see  why  that 
should  interfere." 

"  You  must  n't  come  here  too  often,"  Margery  said, 
with  intentional  coquetry.  "  It  would  n't  be  wise,  you 
know." 

"What  do  you  call  too  often?"  he  laughed,  as  he 
set  the  empty  cups  down,  and  with  a  sudden  move- 
ment lifted  her  onto  his  knee.  She  had  been  persuaded 
into  that  position  before,  but  he  had  never  taken  it  so 
abruptly  for  granted.  She  gave  a  little  cry  and  tried  to 
shake  herself  free. 

"  Don't  be  so  rough,  Jack  !  No,  I  sha'n't  be  picked 
up  like  a  baby.  Let  me  go  and  sing  you  something  — 
I  've  got  a  new  song." 

But  he  would  not  let  her  go  on  this  occasion,  though 
as  a  rule  he  was  ready  and  willing  enough  to  listen  to 
her.  Madge  had  managed  their  intercourse  with  a 
skill  which  might  have  failed  a  more  experienced 
woman :  she  had  sung  and  played  to  him ;  they  had 
talked  together  and  been  companions  as  well  as  lovers. 
She  would  not  submit  to  too  much  love-making,  which 
had  had  the  effect  of  whetting  Vibart's  appetite  and  keep- 
ing him  all  the  keener  for  any  opportunity  she  gave  him. 
Perhaps  if  her  heart  had  been  really  involved,  she 
would  have  been  less  successful  with  him  ;  but  there 
was  the  excitement  and  the  amusment  of  testing  her 
power  to  stimulate  her,  and  she  alternately  teased  and 
petted,  and  always  contrived  to  charm  her  captive 
afresh. 

"  I  sha'n't  let  you  go  ! "  he  said,  laughing  softly.  "  Do 
you  know  I  could  crumple  you  up  like  a  roseleafl 


140  The  Story  of  Eden 

How  easy  it  would  be  to  strangle  you  !  "  His  large 
hand  closed  on  her  soft  throat,  and  she  felt  the  power- 
ful fingers  press  with  a  suggestion  of  what  they  could 
do. 

"Oh! — oh,  don't!"  she  gasped  with  a  sudden 
fright,  struggling  in  his  arms.  "  You  always  frighten 
me  when  I  feel  how  strong  you  are  !  "  she  added,  as  he 
released  her. 

"  Most  women  like  strength  —  even  brute  force  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  like  to  think  you  are  strong  —  that  is  n't  it. 
It  's  when  I  feel  it  —  I  can't  bear  to  realise  that  you 
have  got  me,  and  I  am  entirely  in  your  hands  !  " 

"  But  I  want  you  to  be  entirely  in  my  hands  !  We 
ought  to  be  all  in  all  to  eacL  other  !  " 

She  shrank  a  little  from  the  look  in  his  eyes,  and  his 
hot  breath  on  her  face,  and  releasing  herself  from  his 
arms  took  her  former  place  on  the  sofa  at  his  side. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean !  "  she  said,  half 
pettishly.  "  We  could  n't  be  more  to  each  other  than 
we  are.  You  know  "  —  the  hot  blood  in  her  face  spoke 
first  — "  that  I  love  you.  We  can't  be  anything 
nearer." 

"  Yes,  but  we  can  1  we  can  !  "  he  said,  in  a  breathless 
whisper.  Her  ignorant  words  seemed  suddenly  to 
have  transformed  him  and  broken  down  his  guard.  He 
slipped  down  on  his  knees  beside  her,  and,  encircling 
her  with  his  arms,  looked  up  in  her  face  with  eyes  which 
prayed  for  something  his  lips  kept  mute.  Margery  laid 
a  trembling  hand  on  his  broad  shoulder  and  tried  to 
push  him  away ;  once  again,  as  when  he  had  stood  at 
her  knee  to  shorten  her  stirrup,  she  thought  how  large 
and  overpowering  he  was,  and  he  seemed  to  her  to  have 
suddenly  gone  insane  from  no  cause.  He  was  madly 
kissing  her  breast,  —  the  delicate  laces  of  her  white 
gown  kept  a  sense  of  masculinity  in  the  smell  of  smoke 
for  days  afterwards,  —  and  uttered  a  half-impatient  ex- 
clamation, which  sounded  like  distress,  when  she  suc- 
ceeded in  freeing  herself  and  jumped  up. 


The  Story  of  Eden  141 

"  No,  you  don't  understand  !  "  he  said. 

"  Indeed  I  don't  —  and  I  think  you  ought  to  be  go- 
ing. Anthony  will  be  in  soon."  Madge  was  severely 
practical  in  a  moment,  and  decided  that  a  more  level 
tone  to  their  companionship  might  not  be  inadvisable 
for  the  future.  She  had  great  faith  in  the  effect  of  an 
"  ordinary  manner "  in  managing  emotions,  and  con- 
gratulated herself  on  her  success,  when  she  might  better 
have  done  so  on  Vibart  's  self-control.  On  thinking 
over  the  afternoon,  however,  she  was  vaguely  uncom- 
fortable. There  was  a  suggestion  of  licence  in  Vibart's 
manner  which  had  made  rapid  strides.  She  did  not 
like  it,  and  began  to  be  beset  with  dread  lest  her  in- 
fluence over  him  might  not  be  strong  enough,  some 
day,  to  prevent  his  doing  or  saying  "  something  she  did 
not  like,"  —  the  phrase  was  as  vague  as  her  foreboding. 
In  any  case  she  was  relieved  when  told  that  she  would 
not  see  him  for  a  day  or  so.  He  was  very  busy,  and 
was  unable  to  keep  tryst  in  the  arbour  even  for  a  few 
minutes  at  night.  Professor  Cunningham  left  home  on 
the  Monday  morning  early,  and  Margery  had  the  whole 
day,  undisturbed  by  his  moral  influence,  in  which  to 
make  good  resolutions.  It  was  a  noticeable  fact,  that, 
when  unfretted  by  his  neighbourhood,  she  recovered 
her  moral  balance  and  reasoned  herself  into  a  less 
disastrous  recklessness  than  the  Professor  managed  to 
bring  forth. 

Madge  had  not  seen  Mrs.  Drysdale  for  a  week  or 
two;  one  of  the  precious  boys  and  the  respectable 
baby  had  developed  measles,  and  Clarice  shut  herself 
in  behind  a  carbolic  sheet,  from  which  she  communi- 
cated only  with  Ossy  and  the  remaining  boy,  and  was 
oblivious  of  any  one  else  outside  the  nursery.  Madge 
had  assiduously  called  to  inquire,  and  left  fruit  and 
flowers,  but  had  not,  of  course,  been  admitted,  and 
missed  her  first  friend's  influence  and  counsel.  She 
felt,  sometimes,  that  she  would  like  to  confide  the 


142  The  Story  of  Eden 

growing  tangle  of  her  life  to  an  older  woman,  but  Fate 
seemed  to  have  removed  all  succour  far  from  her.  Star- 
ling and  Mrs.  Dodd  were  gone  to  Caledon  with  Mr. 
Johnnie,  who  occasionally  took  flying  trips  when  the 
money  burned  too  hotly  in  his  pocket,  and  swept  his 
wife  and  daughter  away  on  unexpected  jaunts,  like  an 
elephantine  whirlwind  ;  and  with  the  removal  of  Mrs. 
Dodd  and  Mrs.  Drysdale  beyond  the  reach  of  rescue, 
Margery  sank  back  into  her  former  state  of  drifting, 
with  a  current  too  strong  for  her,  and,  with  the  plastic- 
ity of  youth,  fell  into  the  ways  of  thought  and  the  views 
of  life  taken  by  the  only  associate  offered  her  at  the 
time,  and  became,  though  she  did  not  know  it,  a  passive 
reflector  of  "Jack's  "  ingenious  sophistries  and  maxims. 

It  was  the  physical  part  of  Margery  which  was  rep- 
resented in  Vibart's  mind,  without  any  meaning  at- 
tached to  it.  When  he  thought  of  her,  her  eyes  were 
always  two  glimpses  of  blue  between  the  lines  of 
lashes,  because  she  had  a  trick  of  lowering  the  lids 
quickly  and  glancing  up  as  she  did  so  —  the  expres- 
sion in  them  passed  him  by;  likewise  her  hair  was 
fine  and  thick  —  cobwebs  shot  with  sunshine  —  and 
piled  high  on  her  head ;  it  suggested  nothing  of  artis- 
tic effect  to  him ;  but  he  felt  that  he  wanted  to  plunge 
his  fingers  into  its  masses,  and  test  its  softness.  Her 
round  young  face,  tilted  upwards  as  a  flower  to  the 
sun,  her  parted  lips  (his  own  smoked  for  them), 
her  light  poised  body  and  ripening  form,  expressed 
nothing  for  his  brain  to  recognise ;  he  wanted  to  touch 
her,  to  finger  and  prove  what  his  senses  caught  at ;  but 
beyond  acknowledging  a  mental  quickness  in  her,  she 
might  have  been  an  alert  little  animal  to  his  compre- 
hension. Constant  intercourse  with  this  point  of  view 
is  bound  to  have  a  certain  materializing  effect  on  the 
finest  mind.  Margery  was  beginning  to  think  of  her- 
self as  a  Body,  without  an  abstract  Personality  at  all. 

She  had  no  visitors  on  the  day  of  her  brother's  de- 


The  Story  of  Eden  143 

parture  ;  Vibart  had  written  her  a  note  saying  that  he 
had  to  be  in  Cape  Town  all  day,  and  should  probably 
sleep  there.  She  need  not  expect  him  until  the  mor 
row.  The  letter  was  brought  by  his  soldier  servant ; 
but  when  Madge  opened  it  she  found  that  it  was  in 
French,  a  safeguard  over  which  she  smiled  a  little. 

"  I  am  rather  glad  he  cannot  come  to-night,"  she 
thought.  "  I  wonder  if  I  have  the  courage  to  put  a 
stop  to  the  whole  affair  ?  We  cannot  go  any  further  — 
he  frightened  me  the  other  day  —  and  I  don't  know 
what  he  means."  She  went  out  into  the  dreamy  after- 
noon which  had  kissed  the  garden  with  a  golden  kiss 
and  made  everything  soft  and  warm  to  look  at,  as  well 
as  feel.  There  was  not  a  breath  of  wind  stirring,  and 
the  heat  had  been  so  great  all  day  that  she  had  kept 
in  the  house.  "  The  worst  of  it  is  that  when  I  am 
with  him  he  can  always  persuade  me  —  I  feel  I  can't 
say  No  to  anything  he  asks.  It  must  be  because  he  is 
handsome."  (She  was  judging  by  externals  after  her 
newly  acquired  habit,  and  with  the  elementariness  of 
her  years.)  "  All  the  women  round  here  admire  him 
too,  whatever  they  say  of  him  !  I  am  glad  he  is  mine, 
and  no  one  else's."  She  took  out  the  letter  and  re- 
read the  sentence  which  assured  her  of  this  fact.  It 
was  too  flowery  when  translated,  but  it  fell  as  prettily  as 
music  in  the  French.  Vibart  was  an  excellent  linguist, 
and  had  wooed  as  many  women  on  paper  as  viva  voce. 
This  probable  cause  of  his  facility  did  not  however 
occur  to  Margery,  who  sat  in  the  relaxing  warmth  of 
the  afternoon  and  allowed  her  thoughts  to  dwell  on  his 
strongly  coloured  eyes,  the  silky  softness  of  his  mous- 
tache, and  his  undeniable  figure.  If  she  had  been 
questioned,  she  would  have  said  that  she  was  passion- 
ately in  love  with  him,  and  it  was  true  that  the  sound 
of  his  step  made  her  pulse  start,  and  her  senses  an- 
swered his  at  the  first  touch.  Nevertheless  she  half 
formed  a  resolution  to  "  give  it  all  up,"  as  she  said 


144  The  Story  of  Eden 

vaguely  to  herself,  sitting  among  the  sun-warmed  roses, 
whose  faint  scent  but  ill  fulfilled  the  promise  of  their 
gorgeous  colour.  Little  round  red  roses  they  were,  as 
deep  and  bright  as  blood,  but  without  half  the  scent  of 
an  English  "  Gens  de  Bataille." 

"  I  will  try  and  tell  him  that  we  can't  go  any  further, 
so  we  must  stop  !  "  she  thought  practically,  as  if  a 
man's  passion  which  she  had  done  her  best  to  rouse 
and  foster  were  as  easily  laid  down  as  a  book  of  which 
she  did  not  care  to  read  the  end.  She  felt  almost 
satisfied  with  her  decision,  and  sat  there  until  the  sun 
dropped  down  behind  the  mountains,  while  the  whole 
garden  preached  her  an  unheeded  sermon  on  the  un- 
alterable change  and  advance  of  earthly  things,  —  the 
bud  growing  to  blossom,  the  blossom  running  to  seed, 
the  seed  fulfilling  its  destiny  and  multiplying  the  original 
stock.  There  is  no  standing  still  with  Nature. 

But  as  the  evening  fell  and  deepened  into  night,  an 
intolerable  restlessness  seized  Margery  ;  she  wandered 
upstairs  after  dinner  and  looked  at  all  her  prettiest 
things,  and  buried  herself  in  the  recesses  of  a  hanging 
wardrobe,  and  then  tossed  the  dainty  fripperies  aside, 
and,  leaving  the  room  strewn,  went  downstairs  to  her 
brother's  laboratory.  It  was  dark,  and  smelt  strongly 
of  chemicals ;  she  drew  back  with  a  sniff  of  disgust 
and  closed  the  door.  The  memory  of  his  discourses  on 
elytra  and  tracheae  and  stomata  prevented  her  pene- 
trating further,  even  without  her  horror  of  black  beetles. 
The  house  felt  intensely  large  and  dark,  and  she  wan- 
dered about  it  aimlessly.  Her  resolutions  in  the  sun- 
shine seemed  suddenly  dwarfed  and  puny  at  night; 
she  doubted  their  strength,  and  it  terrified  her.  If 
only  she  had  asked  Polly  to  come  in  and  talk  to  her, 
or  had  had  some  one  to  stay  in  Anthony's  absence  !  It 
was  horribly  lonely. 

She  opened  the  hall  door  aimlessly  after  a  while,  and 
went  out  onto  the  stoep ;  the  great  heat  of  the  day  had 


The  Story  of  Eden  145 

baked  the  earth,  which  was  still  warm  and  throwing  up 
heat  in  the  darkness.  Margery  started  back  with  an 
exclamation  as  the  sudden  warmth  rose  round  her,  for 
the  outside  world  was  hotter  than  the  house ;  it  felt 
as  though  she  had  come  within  measurable  distance  of 
a  furnace,  or  as  though  the  internal  fire  said  to  be  in 
the  centre  of  the  globe  were  burning  just  underfoot. 
Two  lines  of  a  verse  recurred  to  her  mind  to  frighten 
her, — 

"  We  meet  in  an  evil  land 

That  is  near  to  the  gates  of  hell," — 

it  added  the  last  touch  to  her  overwrought  mood,  and 
she  glanced  round  her,  panting,  as  if  she  almost  ex- 
pected to  see  the  sullen  red  fires  glaring  out  of  the 
darkness. 

The  outside  world  was  very  dark  and  still,  though 
the  sky  was  like  a  diamond  mine,  every  star  a  jewel 
cut  and  polished  and  set  in  unfathomable  blackness. 
A  fitful  little  wind  played  among  the  bushes,  and  the 
keen  piercing  note  of  the  crickets  filled  the  air  with 
unbroken  cadence.  It  reminded  Margery  of  the  dance  at 
Simon's  Town,  and  the  little  dim  tent  where  she  had  sat 
with  Vibart,  listening  mechanically  to  the  same  sound. 
She  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  stoep  in  the  stream 
of  light  from  the  hall  behind  her,  and  started  with 
every  falling  leaf.  The  night  was  full  of  slight  noises, 
and  charged  with  electricity.  When  a  cat  ran  across 
the  garden  to  the  tennis  court,  she  caught  her  breath 
and  nearly  shrieked,  and  the  sound  of  a  clock  striking 
ten  in  the  house  behind  her  jarred  on  her  nerves.  She 
seemed  to  possess  an  extra  power  of  hearing,  and 
caught  the  sense  of  sounds  long  before  they  could  be 
definitely  heard.  There  were  a  horse's  hoofs  beating 
somewhere  along  the  road  from  Main's  Avenue  — 
hardly  out  of  the  Avenue  as  yet,  but  she  felt  them  com- 
ing, and  strained  her  ears  through  the  audible  night.  It 
10 


146  The  Story  of  Eden 

was  no  surprise  to  her  when  the  vague  sounds  fell  into 
the  regular  rhythm  of  hoofs ;  but  even  the  sharp  click 
of  a  daylight  trot  was  dulled  and  muffled  mysteriously 
now,  half  lost  on  the  sand  and  fir-needles  with  which 
the  road  was  carpeted.  Margery  held  her  breath,  — 
something  unexplained,  which  she  feared  beyond  words, 
seemed  coming  towards  her  with  every  hoof- beat ;  the 
horse  was  trotting  along  by  the  hedge  now,  it  turned 
in  at  the  open  gate  and  was  coming  down  the  lane. 
Who  was  riding  to  Camp  so  late? 

Suddenly  the  friendly  stream  of  light  was  extin- 
guished behind  her.  She  heard  some  one  switch  off 
the  light  and  close  the  door,  without  looking  out  and 
seeing  her.  She  wanted  to  cry  out,  but  her  voice  dried 
up  in  her  throat,  and  the  security  of  the  lighted  house 
was  withdrawn.  Then  she  reminded  herself  that  she 
could  get  in  through  the  windows  of  the  morning-room 
whenever  she  wished,  as  the  servants  had  orders  to 
leave  the  fastening  of  the  window  to  her,  and  she 
rose  from  her  seat  on  the  stoep  to  walk  round  to  that 
side  of  the  house.  But  the  horse  was  passing  down 
the  lane,  and  as  she  moved  her  figure  was  vaguely 
discernible  through  the  darkness ;  the  rider  hesitated, 
and  dismounted,  hitching  the  animal  up  to  a  tree,  while 
Margery  stood  as  if  rooted  to  the  ground.  The  next 
moment  she  went  forward  blindly,  straight  down  the 
drive. 

"  Oh,  why  did  you  come  ?  Where  did  you  come 
from  ?  "  she  said  under  her  breath,  with  a  swift  glance 
back  at  the  house.  The  lights  were  all  out  on  this 
side ;  it  stood  black  and  sentinel-like,  a  lifeless  thing  in 
the  living  night. 

A  voice  came  out  of  the  darkness,  softly,  relentlessly, 
"  I  have  only  just  got  back.  I  did  not  stay  in  town 
after  all,  and  I  felt  I  must  ride  down  this  way,  just  to 
pass  the  house.  My  darling,  what  luck  to  find  you 
here  1 " 


The  Story  of  Eden  147 

"Oh,  I  oughtn't  to  be  —  I  meant  to  go  to  bed. 
But  they  have  shut  me  out  by  mistake  — " 

"  By  Jove  !  have  they  ?  Do  they  know  you  are  out 
here?" 

"  No,  but  I  can  get  in  through  the  morning-room 
window  as  usual.  They  think  I  have  gone  to  bed. 
Anthony  is  away  you  know,  he  went  this  morning." 

"  H'm ! "  .  .  .  There  was  an  instant's  pause  while 
the  girl's  figure  was  folded  into  the  rider's  heavy  cloak. 
"  Come  and  sit  in  the  vineyard  —  do  !  "  he  whispered. 
"  Just  for  a  few  minutes.  Kaffir  will  be  all  right."  He 
twisted  another  knot  in  the  rein,  and  backed  the  horse 
under  the  high  hedge  behind  some  bushes,  without 
letting  go  of  Margery's  hand.  Her  spirits  had  sud- 
denly risen,  and  she  felt  intoxicatingly  gay ;  fear  and 
instinct,  the  warders  of  the  daylight,  vanished  in  the 
excusing  darkness  under  the  spell  of  Vibart's  presence, 
and  she  was  only  conscious  of  her  momentary  happi- 
ness —  the  warmth  of  the  great  earth  —  the  mystery  of 
the  night  —  the  nearness  of  human  touch  and  a  name- 
less attraction  which  drew  them  as  usual  close  together. 
It  was  all  a  dream  as  they  sat  above  the  vines  in  the 
bower  of  giant  leaves,  side  by  side  on  the  wide  turf 
seat,  with  his  riding  cloak  wrapped  round  them,  like  a 
shroud  binding  their  two  bodies  together.  It  fright- 
ened her  for  a  moment  to  be  so  close  to  him,  and  to 
feel  the  reality  of  his  breast  rising  and  falling  stormily 
beneath  her,  as  she  half  leaned,  half  lay  in  his  arms. 
It  was  as  if  she  had  put  her  hand  on  the  pulse  of 
life,  and  shook  to  know  its  power. 

The  pagan  warmth  of  the  earth  was  their  inheritance, 
and  the  darkness  the  lure  rather  than  the  veil  of  irre- 
claimable Nature.  But  the  law  of  the  Garden  of  Eden 
remained  the  same  as  when  it  had  been  first  uttered  in 
awful  certainty  — 

"  And  ye  shall  be  as  Gods,  knowing  Good  and  Evil." 


148  The  Story  of  Eden 

Day  rose  golden  over  the  vineyard,  taking  the  earth 
by  storm,  and  drenching  the  stripped  vines  in  a  bath 
of  sunshine.  The  outlined  mountains  were  transparent 
purple  against  a  far  blue  sky,  and  all  the  view  —  green 
trees,  red-roofed  cottages,  and  winding  white  roads  — 
had  caught  the  joyousness  of  morning  and  danced  with 
light. 

A  window  went  up  in  Vine  Lodge,  and  some  one 
threw  back  the  green  shutters.  Margery  leaned  out 
and  sniffed  the  morning,  wondering  at  herself.  She 
had  thought  as  she  crept  to  bed  the  night  before,  that 
the  daylight  would  make  her  shudder,  and  had  pictured 
herself  ashamed  to  wake  up  again.  But  she  proved 
the  elasticity  of  uncondemned  human  nature,  and  with 
the  thought,  "  No  one  knows  !  "  came  also  relief,  and  a 
sudden  loss  of  guilt.  Fear  of  discovery  has  a  great 
deal  to  do  with  virtue ;  but  not  even  fear  of  discovery, 
or  the  world's  loud-voiced  condemnation,  makes  re- 
pentance. The  accuser  must  be  within  us  to  make  his 
voice  really  heard  —  to  be  sorry  that  we  are  found  out 
is  a  very  different  thing  to  being  sorry  for  what  we  have 
done  !  A  confusion  between  the  two  has  been  one  of 
the  scandals  of  morality.  At  this  stage  of  her  existence 
Margery  found  that  the  backsliding  of  which  no  one 
knew  did  not  weigh  heavier  on  her  than  thistledown. 
She  threw  off  her  dread  and  dismay  with  the  night, 
and  revelled  in  the  new-created  day. 

"  I  shall  go  down  and  walk  about  the  garden  until 
breakfast,"  she  said,  letting  down  the  sunshiny  mass  of 
her  hair.  As  she  did  so  she  caught  sight  of  her  own 
face  in  the  glass,  and  flushed  a  sudden  rosy  red.  "  Oh, 
thank  God,  no  one  knows  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  And  it 
will  never  happen  again  —  I  won't  even  put  myself  in 
a  position  where  he  has  a  chance  to  ask." 

Even  the  criminal  feels  a  chance  of  redemption  in 
the  morning;  Margery  ate  her  breakfast  as  usual, 
though  she  neglected  her  toast  and  drank  her  tea  as  if 


The  Story  of  Eden  149 

she  were  feverish.  But  as  the  hot  day  drew  onward 
she  became  more  and  more  silent,  and  started  guiltily 
at  every  sound  about  the  house.  It  was  a  mood  due 
to  over-wrought  nerves  rather  than  remorse,  and  she 
lost  it  momentarily  when  Polly  Harbord  came  in  about 
the  middle  of  the  morning  to  give  her  the  last  flying 
news  of  the  neighbourhood. 

"  Mrs.  Wrighton  is  suddenly  coming  out ! "  she  said. 
"  We  are  giving  a  tennis  party  next  week.  Could  you 
have  believed  it?  I  am  sure  I  don't  know  what  the 
courts  will  be  like.  They  have  n't  been  played  on  for 
ages." 

"  Get  True  to  give  you  his  valuable  advice  on  the 
subject,"  said  Madge,  amused  and  interested  at  once. 
"  But  what  a  resurrection,  Polly !  I  thought  Mrs. 
Wrighton  was  in  bed  with  something  or  other?" 

"  Nerves ! "  said  Polly,  her  eyes  narrowing  with 
laughter.  "  So  she  was,  but  Doctor  Langdon  said  she 
needed  distraction,  and  ought  to  rouse  herself  and  see 
more  company.  Hence  we  launch  out !  " 

"  Was  that  your  idea?  " 

"  Well !  —  I  only  said  I  was  dull,  and  I  did  wish  we 
'  kept  more  company,'  as  the  cooks  say  !  " 

"  So  he  managed  it  for  you.  If  Mrs.  Wrighton 
could  but  know !  Any  more  news  ?  You  are  better 
than  the  morning  paper  !  " 

"That  'snot  much  of  a  compliment,  for  the  morn- 
ing paper  is  half  Mr.  Rhodes  and  the  other  half  adver- 
tisements ! l  I  met  Starling  yesterday,  she  said  she 
had  n't  seen  you  for  ages.  She  was  going  to  hunt  you 
up ;  but  the  Brawler  and  Silence  Wright  came  to  tea,  so 
she  couldn't  get  away.  I  left  her  to  it  —  they  are 
neither  of  them  friends  of  mine." 

"  I  like  Silence,"  said  Margery,  vaguely.  "  I  meant 
to  go  round  to  Friedenhof  this  afternoon,  but  I  don't 
think  I  shall." 

*  The  Author  declines  to  be  responsible  for  any  opinion  ex- 
pressed by  the  characters  in  this  book. 


150  The  Story  of  Eden 

"Why  not?" 

"  It 's  so  hot."  ("I  cannot  go  there  —  just  now  ! " 
she  thought.) 

"  Oh,  nonsense.  Do  go  !  It  will  do  you  more  good 
than  moping  here.  By  the  way,  Major  Vibart  is  back 
—  he  came  back  last  night,  late." 

"  Did  he?  "  said  Margery,  lightly.  "  Who  told  you? 
He  ought  to  come  and  look  me  up  to-day.  It  is 
ages  since  he  called."  She  wondered  at  her  own 
nerve. 

"  Perhaps  he  knows  the  Professor  is  away.  He  is  a 
great  stickler  for  etiquette,  you  know." 

"Is  he?"  Margery  said  with  a  laugh  that  startled 
herself.  "I  don't  suppose  he  is  more  so  than 
other  men,  —  and  I  fully  expect  to  have  visitors  ! 
Won't  Mrs.  Naseby  gossip.  What  did  you  do  last 
night?" 

"  Positively  nothing.     Life  is  as  dull  as  ditchwater." 

"  Polly,  we  are  getting  awfully  frivolous  and  demora- 
lised. If  we  have  one  day  without  anything  doing,  we 
call  it  slow." 

"  Well,  so  it  is.  After  all  one  must  have  amuse- 
ments. I  'm  sure  our  little  tennis  parties  and  enter- 
tainments in  general  are  innocent  enough." 

A  sudden  gravity  wiped  out  Madge's  dimples.  "  I 
wonder  if  they  are  !  "  she  said.  "  When  I  first  came 
out,  I  was  carried  away  by  the  whirl  of  things  in  which 
I  found  myself,  —  tennis  parties  and  gymkanas  and 
dances  and  picnics.  Now  I  take  it  all  for  granted; 
but  I  find  it  very  dull  if  nobody  comes  and  nothing 
happens.  We  all  seem  to  live  just  for  the  things  that 
are  going  to  take  place  next  week,  but  for  nothing 
further  ahead." 

"  We  can  only  be  young  once.  I  said  that  to  Beau 
Livingston  the  other  night,  and  he  said  that  his  '  once ' 
was  pretty  well  over,  he  thought.  I  knew  he  wanted 
me  to  deny  it,  so  I  did  n't." 


The  Story  of  Eden  151 

"  He  seems  to  have  a  fair  time  of  it,  young  or  not  I 
Have  you  seen  much  of  him  lately?  " 

"  H'm  —  a  fair  quantity." 

"  I  thought  you  said  —  " 

"  Yes,  so  I  did.  But  he  saw  me  home  from  the 
Hearnes'  the  other  night  —  " 

"And  —  " 

"  Well,  I  have  n't  let  him  get  any  further  for  a  long 
time." 

"And  that  night  he  did?" 

"  It  was  only  at  the  gate,  and  no  one  saw.'' 

The  old  consolation  !  Madge  had  applied  it  to  her- 
self earlier  in  the  morning.  She  wrinkled  her  smooth 
forehead.  "  It  's  the  thin  edge  of  the  wedge,"  she 
thought  rapidly.  "  But  she  knows  that  as  well  as  I  do, 
and  I  can't  warn  her  from  my  own  experience.  And, 
after  all,  what 's  a  kiss?  " 

"Well,  you  '11  come  to  our  tennis,  won't  you?"  Polly 
said  as  she  left. 

"  Of  course.     Whom  have  you  asked  ?  " 

"Oh,  Starling,  and  the  Hearne  girls,  and  Mrs. 
Naseby,  and  Major  Yeats,  and  True,  of  course." 

"  Any  one  else  ?  " 

"  One  or  two  men  to  make  up,  —  Beau  Livingston,  I 
dare  say." 

"  After  the  finale  at  the  gate.     I  see." 

"  And  Major  Vibart,  —  at  least,  I  '11  see  that  he  has 
an  invitation." 

"Don't  trouble  yourself  on  my  account.  I  am 
going  to  explore  Major  Yeats.  He  is  new  to  me,  and 
consequently  interesting.  I  will  cut  Mrs.  Drysdale  out 
while  she  is  still  a  slave  to  the  measles  !  " 

They  parted,  laughing,  with  the  brave  blue  sky  above 
and  the  sunshine  blazing  into  their  bright,  careless 
faces.  Polly  jumped  on  her  cycle  and  went  zigzagging 
off  among  the  firs  to  the  back  gate,  which  was  her 
shortest  way  home,  —  "  Having  a  gymkana,  on  her  own 


152  The  Story  of  Eden 

account,"  Madge  said, — and  Madge  herself  sauntered 
away  down  the  garden  among  the  little  red  roses  and 
the  white  moonflowers.  Her  spirits  fell  again  with 
Polly's  departure ;  some  horror  of  memory  seemed  to 
hang  about  the  garden  and  drove  her  indoors.  She 
would  not  look  at  the  vineyard,  but  went  back  to  the 
drawing-room  and  began  to  practise.  Unfortunately 
all  the  songs  on  the  piano  had  been  chosen  for  Vibart's 
benefit,  and  bore  his  preference  upon  them.  "  I  do 
not  feel  as  if  I  could  ever  face  him  in  the  day  again," 
thought  Madge,  as  she  began  to  play  the  symphony 
of  a  ballad  called  "  Lovelace."  The  words  were  Raffa- 
lowich's,  and  had  been  set  for  her  long  ago  by  a  friend 
in  England.  Her  thoughts  ran  on  to  Vibart,  while  her 
hands  passed  mechanically  over  the  notes.  "  I  wonder 
what  he  will  do  or  say  when  we  meet !  It  is  bound  to 
be  awkward  for  us  both.  He  will  try  to  say  he  is  sorry, 
and  then  I  shall  want  to  kill  him  !  Oh,  I  won't  see 
him  for  some  time ;  that  will  be  best.  I  can  easily 
avoid  him,  as  he  will  probably  be  doing  the  same  thing 
by  me."  She  began  to  sing  — 

"  '  Why  do  you  come  to-night,  to-night, 
So  many  miles  of  wind  and  rain  ?' 
'  Oh,  but  I  come  with  much  delight 

To  your  warm,  sheltering  nest  again  I ' 

" '  Why  do  you  come  to-night,  to-night  ? 

It  might  mean  death  to  both  of  us ! ' 
'  Oh,  but  I  come  with  much  delight,  — 
All  things  I  love  are  dangerous.' 

" '  Why  do  you  come  ?     Do  you  forget 

Who  broke  my  heart  so  long  ago  ?* 
4  Oh,  but  since  then  my  lips  have  met 

No  sweetness  like  your  saying,  '  "  No  "  ' " 

The  last  line  of  the  song  drowned  the  opening  of  the 
door,  but  through  the  final  chords  she  heard  the  ser- 
vant say,  "  Majore  Vibet ! "  and  started  up  from  the 
piano  as  the  door  closed. 


The  Story  of  Eden  153 

He  came  into  the  room  smiling  gaily,  and  as  she 
rose,  he  caught  her  up  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her,  mur- 
muring two  words  in  her  ear  before  he  set  her  down 
that  brought  the  blood  up  over  her  face  and  neck. 
There  was  no  consciousness  of  any  awkward  situation 
about  him,  as  Madge  had  expected,  and  his  unabashed 
confidence  left  her  breathless.  He  smiled  down  upon 
her  as  if  in  triumph,  while  she  stood  before  him  rosy 
and  tongue-tied. 

"  I  have  only  a  few  minutes,  little  one,  but  I  felt  I 
must  just  have  a  glimpse  of  you  !  "  he  said.  "  I  am  due 
at  the  Camp  now,  and  we  have  been  out  all  the  morn- 
ing." She  noticed  in  a  bewildered  fashion  that  he  was 
in  full  uniform.  The  glitter  of  his  spurs,  and  the  various 
metals  which  rmamented  his  broad  person,  caught 
the  light  and  seemed  to  jingle  and  dance  before  her 
eyes. 

"  Oh,  Jack,  how  very  splendid  you  are  !  "  she  gasped, 
half  laughing.  "I  —  did  n't  expect  you  in  to-day  !  " 

"  No,  and  I  am  afraid  I  can't  come  to-night,"  he 
said,  with  an  outspokenness  from  which  Madge  winced. 
"  If  I  can,  I  will,  of  course.  Leave  the  morning-room 
window  open  as  long  as  possible,  dear ;  and  sit  there, 
will  you?  But  that  wasn't  what  I  wanted  to  say. 
Look  here,  how  long  will  your  brother  be  away  ?  " 

"  A  fortnight  at  the  outside." 

"Well,  I  want  you  to  come  away  with  roe  for  one 
.night  at  least.  You  can  manage  that,  can't  you  ?  " 

She  gasped.     "  Oh,  no  !     No  !  —  how  could  I  ?  " 

"  You  are  clever  enough,  if  you  want  to,  I  '11  swear  I 
Suppose  we  go  to  Hout's  Bay?" 

"  It  is  so  near  !  The  next  time  I  went  I  should  be 
recognised.  Besides  I  —  " 

"  It  won't  matter ;  we  need  n't  go  together.  Drive 
over  in  the  afternoon  and  stay  the  night.  I  '11  come 
down  later,  when  there  is  no  fear  of  excursionists." 

"  But  I  could  n't  go  alone." 


154  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  Take  one  of  your  servants." 

"HowcouMIl" 

"  Well,  perhaps  it  is  risky."  He  paused  to  consider, 
but  had  not,  as  Madge  hoped,  abandoned  his  project. 
"I  will  supply  you  with  a  maid,"  he  said,  after  a  mo- 
ment's thought.  "She  can  meet  you  somewhere  on 
the  road.  Only  don't  ask  any  questions." 

"But  afterwards?" 

"  She  is  going  Home  next  Wednesday,  worse  luck  ! 
Otherwise  we  might  have  made  use  of  her  chaperonage 
again  !  "  and  he  actually  laughed. 

"  I  suppose  I  can  do  it,"  Madge  said  slowly.  "  I 
can  say  I  spent  the  night  with  the  Villiers  in  Cape 
Town ;  they  are  also  going  Home  on  Wednesday." 

"  Capital !  I  said  you  could  do  it  if  you  liked. 
You  are  such  a  bright  little  girl,  Madge  !  When  I  first 
saw  you  I  said  to  myself,  '  That  girl  is  not  only  the 
prettiest  I  have  seen,  —  she  has  got  brains.'  What 
the  French  call  'Savour  faire/  and  we  cannot  trans- 
late, because  you  so  seldom  find  an  English  woman 
possessed  of  it." 

Madge  was  pleased.  Vibart's  flattery  always  con- 
trived to  reach  her  weak  points.  She  felt  a  sense  of 
added  importance,  as  if  she  were  a  woman  of  the  world 
conducting  an  intrigue.  The  more  vulgar  forms  of  ex- 
pressing it  roused  a  sense  of  morality  and  consequent 
restrictions.  She  felt  that  she  was  entering  into  the 
spirit  of  the  escapade,  as  she  said,  with  a  little  smile  : 
"  Then  I  suppose  I  am  not  to  recognise  you  even  when 
you  turn  up  at  the  Hotel?" 

"  Of  course  not.  Very  likely  you  '11  have  gone  to 
bed  before  I  arrive,  but  perhaps  I  shall  appear  in  the 
dining-room  for  something  to  eat.  I  don't  suppose 
there  will  be  any  one  staying  in  the  Hotel  except  our- 
selves at  this  time  of  the  year." 

"  But  how  are  we  to  speak  to  each  other  at  all,  then  ?  " 

"Don't  you  remember  the  balcony?"  he  said  sig- 


The  Story  of  Eden  155 

nificantly.     "All   the   front  rooms  open  out  onto  it. 
Don't  let  them  put  you  at  the  back,  that 's  all !  " 

"  Oh,  Jack,  I " 

She  wished  he  had  not  been  quite  so  skilful  in  sur- 
mounting difficulties.  There  seemed  to  be  a  devilish 
facility  about  it  all.  The  only  obstacle  lay  in  the 
making  the  servants  believe  that  she  was  going  to  Cape 
Town  while  she  journeyed  in  the  contrary  direction, 
and  she  saw  that  this  could  be  overcome  by  driving  out 
to  Hout's  Bay  along  a  somewhat  circuitous  route. 

"  I  must  be  off !  "  Vibart  said  hurriedly.  "  Good- 
bye, dearest !  That 's  all  arranged  then  —  Friday,  at 
the  Hotel !  Of  course  I  '11  come  round  if  I  can  before 
that,  but  they  are  working  me  like  the  devil  just  now, 
worse  luck  !  Good-bye  again  —  " 

With  her  lips  still  tingling  from  his  kiss,  Madge 
watched  him  walk  down  the  steps,  take  his  horse  from 
the  Kaffir  boy,  and  ride  away  in  the  sunshine.  As  soon 
as  his  overmastering  vitality  was  removed  from  her,  she 
looked  back  in  dismay  at  what  she  had  promised.  She 
did  not  like  to  turn  back  —  indeed  she  began  to  fear 
that  even  if  she  wrote  to  say  she  had  changed  her  mind, 
the  next  personal  interview  would  sweep  her  protests 
on  one  side  again.  Where  were  her  resolutions  of  this 
morning  ?  Where  was  her  determination  to  never  even 
run  the  risk  of —  She  stood  at  the  window  looking 
blindly  out  at  the  sunny  green  garden,  and  warring 
with  the  thought  that  to  everything  that  he  had  asked 
her,  she  had  meant  to  say,  No !  —  and  that  she  had 
said,  Yes ! 


CHAPTER  VIII 
"  They  call  it  Eden  where  those  lovers  met." 

THE  way  ran  for  some  distance  between  the  fir-trees, 
along  a  road  where  the  pencilled  shadows  of  the  after- 
noon were  lengthily  drawn  on  the  red  dust.  Through 
the  dark  stems  of  the  trees,  and  over  the  plumbago 
hedges,  was  a  glimpse  of  stripped  vines,  for  here 
stretched  the  famous  vineyards  of  Constantia.  Beyond 
Constantia,  the  road  began  to  rise,  until  it  wound  round 
the  mountain  and  over  Hout's  Bay  Nek. 

Margery  sat  at  the  back  of  the  Cape  cart  in  silence, 
and  hardly  looking  about  her.  The  hood  of  the  cart 
was  up  to  keep  off  the  sun  when  they  came  into  the 
open,  but  even  while  they  were  still  going  through  the 
firs  she  kept  her  sunshade  up  as  an  additional  guard, 
and  shrank  if  any  one  came  in  view.  Once,  as  they 
turned  aside  from  one  road  into  another,  she  had  an 
alarm,  —  two  horses  were  coming  along  the  road  they 
had  left,  walking  side  by  side  through  the  fretted  sun 
and  shade,  and  the  sound  of  voices  and  light  laughter 
floated  after  Margery.  Suppose  it  was  some  one  who 
recognised  her,  and  they  were  coming  this  way  !  She 
had  not  fully  recognised  that  she  ran  any  risk  of  detec- 
tion until  that  moment.  A  hurried  explanation  of  her 
presence  there  flashed  through  her  mind  —  should  she 
say  this  —  or  that  ?  Either  story  was  improbable,  but 
in  her  desperation  she  must  decide  on  something.  She 
glanced  at  her  equally  silent  companion,  and  wondered 
how  she  could  best  account  for  this  respectable,  comely 
woman  sitting  beside  her !  Then  she  became  aware 
that  the  riders  had  continued  their  way,  and  «"»rr  nn* 
following  the  cart,  and  with  a  sigh  of  relief  she  raised 


The  Story  of  Eden  157 

her  sunshade  a  little  to  look  after  them  and  see  who 
they  were.  She  recognised  the  slim  dust-coloured 
figure  of  Miss  Montfort,  who  always  wore  a  holland 
skirt,  and  a  minute  later  she  saw  that  her  companion 
was  Valentine  Cayley.  Vague  reports  that  she  had 
heard  of  these  two  flashed  back  on  her  mind  —  had 
not  some  one  said,  "  Cayley  is  running  his  head  into  a 
noose.  Why  the  deuce  does  n't  he  make  a  bolt  of  it, 
and  get  free  of  her  !  Thought  he  asked  for  work  Up 
Country?  "  Though  she  did  not  know  him  personally, 
she  felt  vaguely  sorry  as  her  eyes  followed  the  two 
figures.  Miss  Montfort's  reputation  was  even  less 
lovely  than  Mrs.  Cromo  Dame's,  and  V.  C.  was  kindly 
spoken  of  by  those  who  knew  him.  If  she  had  realised 
her  own  connection  with  his  fate,  she  might  have  been 
more  sorry  still,  but  after  a  minute  she  forgot  the  couple 
who  had  ridden  on  towards  Wynberg,  and  looked  again 
covertly  at  her  spurious  "  maid."  The  woman  had 
said  next  to  nothing ;  her  manner  was  perfectly  re- 
spectful, and  she  had  taken  the  onus  of  the  journey 
on  herself  with  quiet  capability,  engaging  the  cart  and 
looking  after  the  slight  baggage  they  had  with  them. 
Margery  wondered  who  she  was,  and  what  she  thought? 
But  the  last  speculation  was  intolerable ;  she  put  it  from 
her  quickly,  and  looked  at  the  material  things  round 
about. 

They  had  left  Constantia  behind  by  now,  and  were 
driving  more  slowly,  up  an  ascent  between  plantations 
of  silver  trees.  On  either  side  of  the  open  road  the 
whispering,  frosted  leaves  shimmered  whitely  in  the 
sunlight,  or  alternated  in  waves  of  silver  light  and 
greyish  shadow  as  the  wind  passed  over  them.  A  mile 
or  so  more  and  the  road  was  steeper,  the  ascent  slower 
—  they  were  nearing  the  Nek,  and  behind  them  lay  a 
view  before  which  Madge  held  her  breath  anew  when- 
ever she  saw  it,  though  she  had  been  here  before.  In 
the  distance  were  the  blue  sea  and  the  white  sand  of 


158  The  Story  of  Eden 

Muizenburg,  but  all  the  hollow  land  immediately  be- 
neath them  was  full  of  wood  and  vineyard  and  farm- 
land, bounded  by  the  soft  green  velvet  of  the  mountain- 
sides. It  was  as  if  she  saw  the  Garden  of  Eden  in  a 
cup,  held  in  the  hand  of  God,  and  she  looked  upon  it 
as  upon  the  scene  of  the  most  vivid  portion  of  her  life, 
as  yet.  It  was  a  little  spot  to  have  held  so  big  a  tragedy, 
for  to  her  single  existence,  at  any  rate,  the  immediate 
past  had  been  a  thunderous  thing,  —  a  larger  experience 
than  she  had  ever  before  encountered,  —  and  she  vaguely 
recognised  its  tragic  side,  already.  The  nobility  of 
great  events  is  too  large  for  comedy,  even  to  the  most 
elementary  of  human  beings. 

The  cart  paused  on  the  crest  of  the  Nek  to  breathe 
the  horses.  It  was  then  that  Madge  looked  back,  sit- 
ting in  silence  beside  her  silent  companion.  After  a 
few  minutes  the  dark-skinned  driver  called  to  his  rough 
ponies,  and  they  went  on  again,  down  a  winding  road 
that  took  them  rapidly  below  the  summit  and  hid  the 
east  side  of  the  Peninsula  from  their  view.  From  this 
point  until  they  reached  the  Hotel  the  scene  was  uncul- 
tivated Africa,  rough  grass  and  tall  rank  flowers,  purple 
and  flame-colour,  and  here  and  there  a  low  desolate 
building  with  white  walls  and  a  zinc  roof  set  down  in 
the  waste.  Margery  looked  at  it  all  and  saw  it  not ;  her 
thoughts,  by  some  freak  of  her  brain,  had  flown  to 
Vibart,  and  dwelt  on  him  with  a  new  yearning  tender- 
ness, unconscious  that  he  was  but  a  temporary  image 
set  up  to  fill  the  aching  emptiness  of  a  godless  shrine. 
A  faint  trouble  stirred  in  her,  as  the  sap  stirs  in  the 
young  trees.  For  the  first  time,  she  was  regretful  of 
their  indefinite  relations,  and  her  face  flushed  again  at 
the  memory  of  his  two  words  in  her  ear  after  the  night 
in  the  vineyard.  What  he  had  said  was,  "  Little 
Wife ! "  Alas !  Alas !  In  the  background  of  her 
mind  she  saw  a  dream-home,  with  rosy  children  whose 
hair  was  as  bright  as  his,  and  their  eyes  his  eyes.  Then 


The  Story  of  Eden  159 

she  blushed  again  as  at  her  own  presumption,  and  then 
again  her  new-found  maternity  rose  up  in  self-defence. 
Was  she  not  his  wife  by  right  of  every  desire  and 
Nature?  The  passion  of  her  love  shook  her,  and 
swept  her  into  a  fervour  as  of  religion,  but  the  emotion 
which  she  felt,  though  she  knew  it  not,  was  detachable 
from  Vibart,  who  only  served  in  reality  as  the  image  in 
the  shrine.  "  We  cannot  go  against  Nature,"  she  said 
to  herself,  reflecting  his  often- repeated  creed.  "  It  is, 
after  all,  the  most  holy  thing,  —  far  holier  than  mere 
forms  and  ceremonies  and  conventional  restrictions. 
He  is  mine,  and  I  am  his.  The  sanctity  of  love  rati- 
fies all  things." 

The  cart  turned  suddenly  to  the  left,  drove  between 
coarse  green  fields,  and  stopped  in  an  open  space  of 
sandy  gravel  before  the  Hotel.  It  was  built  at  an  ir- 
regular angle,  one  portion  of  the  house  branching  off 
into  the  servants'  quarters,  and  the  other  being  a  long 
solid  block  with  a  row  of  large  trees  planted  close 
against  the  stoep  so  that  the  branches  overshadowed 
the  broad  wooden  balcony  above.  All  the  front  rooms 
overlooked  this  balcony  by  long  windows  which  opened 
onto  it,  so  that  the  occupants  used  it  as  a  mode  of 
entrance  and  egress  more  than  the  doors,  and  de- 
scended onto  the  stoep,  and  in  and  out  of  the  Hotel  by 
the  flight  of  wooden  steps  at  the  corner  of  the  angle. 
Margery  got  down  from  the  cart  and  stood  looking 
round  her  with  a  curious  insensibility,  as  of  one  who 
walks  in  their  sleep.  She  heard  her  companion  speak 
to  the  driver  as  she  paid  him,  and  then  go  before  her 
and  arrange  about  rooms.  "  My  young  lady  would 
prefer  a  bedroom  facing  this  way,  if  you  please,"  she 
said  quietly.  Margery  thought  what  a  pleasant,  well- 
trained  voice  and  manner  she  had.  "And  my  own 
room  to  be  behind  it  —  on  the  other  side  of  the  pas- 
sage ?  Yes,  thank  you,  that  will  do  very  well.  Shall  I 
take  your  bag  up,  Miss?  Perhaps  you  would  like  to 
look  at  the  rooms." 


160  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  Thank  you ! "  said  Margery,  and  followed  her  in 
the  same  sleep-walking  fashion. 

The  rooms  were  airy  and  fresh ;  and  Margery  saw 
her  bag  unstrapped  and  unpacked  by  skilful  hands,  and 
then  the  woman  asked  if  she  should  tell  the  people 
at  the  Hotel  to  send  her  up  some  tea.  "  There  are 
rather  a  noisy  set  of  excursionists  here  sometimes, 
Miss,"  she  said.  "  Perhaps  you  might  not  care  for  the 
dining-room  !  " 

Margery  accepted  the  hint.  "  No,"  she  said.  "  I 
would  rather  have  it  here.  Please  have  yours  upstairs 
too,  if  you  would  prefer  it." 

"Thank  you,  Miss.  Is  there  anything  more  you 
want?" 

"  Nothing,  thank  you."  The  woman  had  reached 
the  door  when  she  spoke  again  with  an  effort,  and  in  a 
lower  tone.  "  What  am  I  to  call  you?  " 

"  My  name  is  Caroline,  Miss  ! "  The  words  came 
after  a  slight  pause. 

"  Thank  you,  Caroline.     Do  you  know  my  name  ?  " 

"  No,  Miss?     I  thought  —  it  was  Mortimer!  " 

John  Mortimer  Vibart !  Margery  turned  her  face  to 
the  open  window  and  the  tree-locked  balcony  beyond, 
and  breathed  with  a  sense  of  difficulty. 

"  Is  that  the  name  you  have  given  here  ?  "  she  said. 

"Yes,  Miss!" 

"  Then  that  is  quite  right." 

She  heard  the  door  shut  behind  her,  but  she  did  not 
move.  She  leaned  against  the  window  frame  clenching 
her  hands  and  afraid  that  she  was  going  off  into  hysteri- 
cal laughter.  She  thought  afterwards  that  it  must  have 
been  quite  five  or  ten  minutes  before  a  sense  of  self- 
mastery  came  over  her,  and  with  a  sigh  she  stepped 
out  of  the  window  onto  the  balcony,  and  sat  down  on 
one  of  the  old  basket  chairs  which  stood  out  there  in 
all  weathers.  A  Kaffir  girl  brought  her  her  tea  there, 
and  she  drank  it,  looking  and  listening,  in  the  same 


The  Story  of  Eden  161 

mechanical  fashion,  to  the  sights  and  sounds  of  the 
Hotel.  A  pleasure-party  had  been  there  to  lunch,  and 
had  spent  the  afternoon  on  the  beach;  between  the 
branches  of  the  trees  she  looked  down  on  the  carts 
which  had  brought  them,  and  saw  the  horses  put  in 
again,  and  the  tourists  assembling.  Two  men  stood  in 
the  sand  beyond  the  stoep,  talking ;  their  voices  rose 
clearly  to  the  balcony  where  she  sat.  "  It  is  very  hot/' 
said  one,  "  as  warm  as  we  had  it  in  February." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other,  "  but  I  think  the  summer  is 
about  over.  We  shall  have  rain  next  week." 

Madge  looked  up  at  the  speckless  blue  sky,  and 
wondered.  The  mountain-side  rose  sheer  behind  the 
Hotel  and  shut  it  in,  but  in  the  front,  where  she  was 
sitting,  the  view  went  over  rough  fields  and  stony  road 
to  a  distant  prospect  of  tree-tops.  Beyond  this  lay  the 
Bay  and  the  white  sand,  but  they  could  not  be  seen. 
Through  the  distance,  however,  the  intermittent  sound 
of  the  sea  came  up  on  the  afternoon  stillness,  as  if 
some  mighty  thing  breathed  in  its  sleep. 

By  and  by  the  carts  drove  away,  the  pleasure-seekers 
laughing  and  talking  and  waving  handkerchiefs.  The 
wheels  died  out  on  the  sandy  road,  and  a  quiet  hush 
fell  over  everything  as  the  sun  went  down,  filling  the 
clefts  of  the  mountains  with  brown  shadows  and  fiery 
red  lights  from  his  deathbed.  There  was  nothing 
animated  or  active  in  all  the  scene,  but  the  white 
figure  of  the  girl  on  the  broad  wooden  balcony  was  the 
quietest  thing  there.  Her  thoughts  went  out  and  lost 
themselves  in  distance,  travelling  over  the  infinite  miles 
which  lay  around  her,  until  the  realisation  that  she 
was  momentarily  alone  in  a  great  Continent  gave  her  a 
sense  of  fright,  —  the  lost,  desolate  feeling  of  those  who, 
accustomed  to  living  in  a  small  country,  find  themselves 
in  a  big  one.  England  looked  a  dot  in  the  sea  to  her 
imagination ;  there  was  something  limited  in  its  very 
views.  She  went  back  in  memory,  and  saw  the  country 

IX 


1 62  The  Story  of  Eden 

always  bounded  by  little  low  hills  and  warm  wooded 
slopes  that  shut  her  in.  It  was  safe  and  small,  as  her  own 
life  had  been.  Here,  in  Africa,  there  was  infinite  room 
to  stray  —  and  she  had  strayed.  She  had  lost  her 
sense  of  boundaries,  and  for  the  first  time  the  impres- 
sion of  being  in  a  savage,  alien  land  struck  down  upon 
her  as  if  it  came  from  the  granite  mountains.  The 
ragged  pasture-land  opposite,  —  two  horses  and  a  mule 
were  grazing  scantly  there,  —  and  the  stunted  wilderness 
that  lay  round  the  Hotel,  suggested  uncivilised  Nature. 
What  must  it  be  like  Up  Country,  if  even  here,  within 
twenty  or  thirty  miles  of  Cape  Town,  the  land  looked 
like  an  unfinished  draft  of  a  world  ! 

Suddenly  it  grew  dark,  for  there  is  no  twilight  there 
after  the  sun  is  down.  The  shadow  of  the  mountains 
wrapped  the  Hotel  in  intense  loneliness ;  the  patter  of 
a  dog's  feet  on  the  stoep,  and  some  one  giving  an 
order,  became  startlingly  distinct.  Margery  rose  with  a 
shrinking  glance  at  the  rustling  branches  of  the  trees 
which  were  growing  black  with  the  coming  night,  and 
went  into  her  bedroom.  It  was  but  a  step  through  the 
open  window,  —  how  easy  an  entrance  from  the  bal- 
cony !  She  lit  a  candle  and  brushed  her  hair,  still 
with  that  curious  sense  of  unreality,  which  even  seemed 
to  hush  her  footfall  down  the  long  passage  with  its 
blank  rows  of  doors  on  either  side.  Doors  !  —  what 
might  not  lie  behind  them?  She  paused  at  the  head 
of  the  stairs  and  looked  back  at  them  fascinated.  One 
opened,  and  the  quiet,  tangible  figure  of  Caroline  came 
out  into  the  passage,  following  her. 

"Will  you  have  dinner  now,  Miss?"  said  the  well- 
trained  voice,  "  it  is  getting  on  for  seven." 

"  Yes,  please.  I  think  you  had  better  come  down 
and  have  something  to  eat  with  me,  Caroline.  Is 
there  any  one  else  in  the  Hotel  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,  Miss.  No,  I  don't  think  there  are 
any  other  visitors." 


The  Story  of  Eden  163 

Her  surmise  proved  correct ;  the  long  gaunt  dining- 
room  was  empty.  It  looked  like  a  great  lecture  hall 
with  its  enormous  uncurtained  windows,  and  bare  floor. 
"The  sort  of  place  where  we  should  give  school-feasts 
and  charity  dinners  at  Home  !  "  thought  Madge,  as  she 
walked  across  to  one  of  the  little  tables  in  the  window. 
The  blinds  were  down ;  but  she  knew,  for  she  had  seen 
the  room  by  daylight,  that  if  she  could  have  looked  out 
she  would  have  seen  the  loose  stones  and  rubble  of  the 
mountain  lying  outside,  and  the  steep  ascent  rising  im- 
mediately beyond.  There  were  only  two  of  the  chan- 
deliers alight;  the  further  end  of  the  room  was  in 
shadow,  and  a  single  waiter  appeared  in  answer  to 
their  summons.  It  was  infinitely  deserted. 

Margery  and  Caroline  faced  each  other  on  either 
side  of  the  narrow  white  cloth.  Now  and  then  Mar- 
gery glanced  at  the  self-contained  face  opposite  her,  and 
speculated  as  to  the  woman's  age,  her  circumstances, 
and  her  thoughts.  But  her  scrutiny  told  her  nothing. 
They  exchanged  half-a-dozen  remarks,  but  the  sound 
of  their  voices  in  the  empty  space  was  startling,  and 
they  instinctively  spoke  under  their  breath,  which  gave 
an  added  impression  of  stealthiness.  As  Margery  was 
finishing  her  meal,  she  heard  voices  in  the  Hotel 
entrance,  though  she  had  missed  the  sound  of  wheels, 
which  were  probably  muffled  in  the  soft  sand,  and  a 
minute  afterwards  another  visitor  entered  and  sat  down 
on  the  other  side  of  the  room.  Margery  lowered  her 
eyes,  and  played  with  the  stem  of  her  wine-glass,  trying 
to  think  of  some  commonplace  remark  to  make  to  her 
companion,  while  her  ears  were  painfully  conscious  of 
every  tone  of  Vibart's  voice  as  he  ordered  his  dinner. 
She  finished  her  own  with  difficulty,  and  pushing  away 
her  plate,  said  something  to  Caroline  about  going  to 
her  room. 

"  I  will  see  that  it  is  all  ready  for  you,  Miss,"  returned 
the  woman,  with  the  same  perfection  of  respect,  and 
preceded  her. 


164  The  Story  of  Eden 

Margery  did  not  glance  towards  the  other  visitor  as 
she  left  the  dining-room.  She  went  up  to  the  balcony 
again,  and  leaned  on  the  railing  round  it,  and  when 
Caroline  came  and  told  her  that  her  room  was  all 
ready  for  the  night,  dismissed  her,  and  said  she  wanted 
nothing  more. 

She  heard  the  clock  strike  eight  and  then  half  past, 
while  she  still  leaned  on  the  balcony  in  the  darkness. 
A  half  moon  came  up  slowly,  and  made  the  world  a 
ghostly  place,  and  the  awful  insistence  of  the  stony 
mountains  was  as  full  of  expression  as  the  Sphinx.  It 
sank  into  Margery's  soul  until  she  was  permeated  with 
the  vast  immutability,  and  stood  there  as  if  herself 
petrified.  She  did  not  want  to  move  or  speak ;  when 
a  heavy  tread  sounded  on  the  wooden  stair,  she  stirred 
impatiently,  but  did  not  turn  her  head.  Vibart  came 
along  the  balcony  cautiously  and  stopped  beside  her. 

"  Well,  so  you  got  here  all  right !  " 

The  eager  commonplace  brought  her  back  from  the 
abstracted  mood  stealing  over  her  to  present  things. 
With  a  half  sigh  she  yielded  to  the  arm  round  her 
waist,  and  leaned  her  head  back  against  his  shoulder. 

"  Jack,  what  a  vast  country  this  is  ! " 

"  Large  enough.  I  rode  over,  —  you  drove,  I 
suppose  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  What  time  did  you  get  here  ?  " 

"  About  five  or  half  past.  I  sat  here  for  ages,  —  a 
hundred  years  I  think,  —  and  watched  the  mountains." 

"  It  was  awfully  good  of  you  to  come  !  I  hope  you 
weren't  very  bored.  I  didn't  dare  to  come  down 
before.  Margery,  my  darling,  I  can  never  thank  you 
for  this  ! " 

She  tried  to  reach  the  warm  human  atmosphere,  and 
escape  the  influence  of  the  inexpressible  mountains 
and  elementary  earth ;  but  she  felt  as  if  she  touched 
him,  through  a  veil.  Something  had  swept  her  away 


The  Story  of  Eden  165 

from  mere  vitality ;  she  was  alive  in  the  spirit,  as  well  as 
in  the  body,  and  it  separated  them.  She  could  only 
be  passive,  and  let  him  satisfy  himself  with  caresses, 
for  she  felt  she  could  not  help  him. 

"  You  know  I  would  n't  harm  you  in  the  least,"  he 
kept  on  saying,  as  if  he  were  almost  uneasy.  "  I  knew 
I  should  n't  do  you  any  harm,  or  I  would  n't  have 
asked  you  to  come.  You  trust  me,  don't  you, 
Madge?" 

"  Of  course,  dear."  She  wondered  that  he  troubled 
himself  on  the  matter,  when  she,  for  the  moment,  was 
so  utterly  calm.  The  doubts  and  fears  had  formerly 
been  hers,  and  it  had  been  Vibart  who  had  smoothed 
them  away. 

"  And  you  love  me  ?  " 

"  Ar'  n't  you  tired  of  the  assurance  yet?" 

"  No  !  —  Madge,  do  you  know  I  'm  fonder  of  you 
than  of  any  other  woman  who  has  been  in  my  life  ?  " 

"  I  am  glad  of  that."  She  did  not  disturb  herself 
for  the  suggestion  of  there  being  other  women,  though 
she  knew  that  they  were  probably  many.  She  had 
imbibed  his  tenet  that  a  man  must  have  many  loves. 

"  I  was  n't  nearly  so  fond  of  you  at  first,  you 
know  ! "  he  acknowledged  with  a  little  laugh.  "  Are 
you  cross  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit !  —  I  don't  care  any  more  than  you  do  !  " 

"  If  you  care  as  much  as  that,  it 's  a  precious  big 
deal !  I  can't  bear  the  thought  of  leaving  you  —  it 's 
an  awful  fag  having  to  go  Home  just  now." 

The  crickets  were  singing  loudly  in  the  dust  and  the 
grass  clumps,  on  the  mountain  head  a  sullen  red  glare 
proclaimed  a  bush  fire,  and  the  sea's  voice  was  fitfully 
audible  through  the  night.  Madge  looked  at  the  bush 
fire  and  the  cold  white  moonlight,  with  all  the  pleasure 
of  an  art-lover  in  a  harmonious  contrast.  She  felt  as 
though,  while  her  lips  talked  to  Vibart,  her  soul  talked 
somehow  to  the  mountains. 


1 66  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  But  we  always  knew  you  would  have  to  go  some 
day,  Jack.  And  we  have  been  very  happy  !  " 

"  Have  I  made  you  happy,  darling  ?  Say  that  again, 
won't  you  !  You  don't  know  how  I  hate  to  think  of 
going  away." 

"You  might  come  back  again!"  said  Margery, 
dreamily.  She  was  half  remorseful  that  she  felt  no 
sharper  pang  of  pain  at  the  mention  of  his  going. 
Did  she  not  care  ?  Of  course  she  cared  —  it  was  only 
that  she  did  not  realise  it !  why,  —  she  loved  him  !  It 
was  the  great  passion  of  her  life,  —  the  love  that  sancti- 
fied all  things.  She  forced  it  on  her  mind  as  if  by 
repetition  she  could  prove  its  reality. 

"  I  am  afraid  it 's  not  likely,  unless  there  were  a  war," 
he  said,  sending  a  mouthful  of  smoke  out  into  the  night 
that  caught  the  moonlight  and  gleamed  whitely.  He 
was  smoking  a  cigar,  and  Margery  sniffed  the  scent 
appreciatively.  "  No,  we  are  more  likely  to  meet  in 
England.  You  are  sure  to  come  Home  some  day  !  " 

"  Not  at  all  sure,  with  Anthony.  He  cannot  live  in 
England  in  the  winter,  so  through  some  oblique  pro- 
cess of  reasoning  he  thinks  it  unnecessary  to  come 
Home  in  the  summer  !  Apropos  of  nothing,  Jack,  I 
met  that  Mr.  Cayley  who  is  in  your  Regiment  on  my 
way  here  this  afternoon." 

"  Did  he  see  you  ?  " 

"  No,  he  was  riding  with  Miss  Montfort,  and  they 
turned  aside  and  went  by  another  road  before  they 
passed  me." 

"  V.  C.  seems  to  be  going  far  and  fast  in  that  direc- 
tion," said  Vibart,  in  an  amused  tone.  He  seemed 
perfectly  satisfied  to  know  it. 

"  Yes,  it  is  rather  a  pity,  is  n't  it?  " 

"Why?" 

"  She  is  reported  something  of  an  adventuress ;  but  she 
is  a  friend  of  the  Cromo  Dames,  so  people  are  obliged  to 
accept  her.  Do  you  know,  I  was  very  jealous  of  Mrs. 
Cromo  Dame  once  ?  I  don't  know  that  I  am  not  still ! " 


The  Story  of  Eden  167 

"  She  is  a  handsome  woman,  —  but  you  need  n't 
trouble  your  head  about  her." 

"  Need  n't  I?     Are  you  ever  jealous?  " 

"  Awfully !  —  I  should  like  to  shoot  all  those  boys 
and  old  Johnnies  that  Livingston  insists  made  love  to 
you  at  Home  !  " 

"  Mr.  Livingston  talks  nonsense  —  and  sometimes 
stumbles  over  the  truth.  But  my  love-affairs  were  very 
harmless.  I  used  to  write  to  three  boys,  and  one  old 
man  asked  me  to  marry  him.  That 's  all !  " 

"  Except  for  the  details  ! " 

"  Well,  I  fm  sure  you  need  n't  talk  !  Think  of  the 
details  there  must  be  in  your  own  past ! " 

"  I  never  kissed  an  old  lady  anyhow  !  " 

"You  don't  know  that  I  —  " 

"Well?" 

"  Jack,  I  do  think  you  are  horrid  !  —  and  you  said 
you  were  n't  jealous  !  " 

Vibart's  suppressed  laugh  almost  startled  her.  "  I  'm 
not  —  not  over  your  poor  little  sins  in  the  past,  any- 
how !  I  might  not  be  so  easy  ten  years  hence.  You  '11 
do  a  lot  in  ten  years,  Madge  ! " 

"Do  you  think  I  shall?"  asked  Margery,  in  real 
amusement.  "  I  wonder  !  " 

They  were  silent  again,  while  the  mountains  slowly 
reasserted  their  ascendency  over  Margery,  until  a  clock 
striking  ten  roused  her.  "  I  must  go  to  bed  !  "  she 
said.  "  I  'm  afraid  of  being  seen  or  heard  talking  to 
you."  She  hesitated  awkwardly.  "  Good-night,  Jack  !  " 
she  said  softly. 

"  Look  here,  I  'm  going  down  to  get  a  drink,"  he 
said,  as  he  kissed  her.  "  I  don't  want  to  be  late,  my- 
self. Madge  !  "  —  he  bent  his  head  in  the  darkness 
and  whispered  —  "  Lock  your  door,  and  leave  your 
window  unfastened  ! " 

She  buried  her  face  on  his  breast  for  an  instant,  then 
turning  away  went  into  her  room. 


1 68  The  Story  of  Eden 

Vibart  went  down  the  steps  again;  she  heard  his 
descending  foot  as  she  undressed  and  got  into  bed. 
Through  habit,  she  knelt  down  beside  the  bed  in  her 
night-gown,  and  clasped  her  hands.  No  words  came 
to  her  lips,  and,  with  a  shudder  of  fear,  she  rose  up  again 
without  praying.  For  a  moment  she  thought,  "  I  can 
pray  afterwards,  and  ask  to  be  forgiven  !  "  then,  with  a 
revulsion  of  feeling,  she  thrust  the  thought  away.  "  At 
least  I  will  be  honest,"  she  said.  "  If  I  am  wicked,  I 
won't  try  and  cheat  God  by  saying  I  did  n't  mean  to 
be  !  I  don't  think  it  is  wicked.  It 's  Nature  —  you 
can't  go  against  Nature."  Vibart's  creed  again. 

She  had  left  one  side  of  the  window  open,  and  the 
blind  was  up.  As  she  lay  in  bed,  she  could  see  the 
night  sky  over  the  tree-tops,  and  hear  the  crickets  sing. 
The  forceful  impression  of  the  mountains  representing 
Africa  came  back  upon  her,  and  she  fell  into  another 
trance  under  the  influence  of  their  nearness.  The  long 
implacable  stony  range  seemed  always  present  in  her 
mind, —  an  insistent  declaration  of  unalterable  character. 
The  very  barrenness  of  the  hard  outlines  against  the 
empty  sky  accentuated  it.  It  was  immovable,  eternal, 
filled  with  audible  silence  and  a  vast  sense  of  space, 
and  this  also  was  a  type  of  the  strength  of  Nature.  .  .  . 
The  moonlit  sky  was  blotted  out  from  her  eyes  by  a 
dark  figure.  As  it  had  filled  the  pale  opening  of  the 
vine  arbour  on  the  night  when  she  had  first  met  him 
there,  so  it  seemed  again  to  fill  the  horizon.  A  hand 
pushed  back  the  window  a  little  further,  and  Vibart 
stepped  into  the  room.  .  .  . 


CHAPTER  IX 

"  Will  she  cling  to  me  as  kindly, 

When  the  childish  love  is  lost  f 
Will  she  pray  for  me  as  blindly, 

Or  but  weigh  the  wish  and  cost 
Looking  back  on  our  lost  Eden  from  the  girlhood  she  has  crossed  1 

MRS.  WRIGHTON'S  tennis  afternoon  came  off  at  the  end 
of  the  following  week.  It  was  very  largely  attended, 
mainly  through  curiosity,  for  the  invalid  widow  had 
not  entertained  within  the  memory  of  the  present 
three-years'  generation  of  the  Social  World.  Three 
years  is  a  fair  average  for  that  society,  partly  because 
people  rarely  stay  longer  without  going  Home,  partly 
because  that  is  the  usual  limit  for  the  Gun-boats  and 
the  Regiments  to  remain  before  they  are  moved  on  to 
the  next  station.  Mrs.  Wrighton's  incentive  towards 
the  mild  dissipation  of  tea  and  tennis  had  blown  as 
lightly  across  the  suburbs  as  the  gold-dust  on  the  petals 
of  the  Narina,  and  Wynberg  and  Rondebosch  went 
to  laugh  at  Dr.  Langdon's  strategic  diversion  in  the 
monotony  of  attending  her  fancied  ailments.  Polly 
Harbord  was  really  the  mainspring  of  the  entertain- 
ment ;  she  poured  out  the  tea,  and  worked  the  affair, 
while  Mrs.  Wrighton  sat  in  a  reclining  chair,  wrapped 
in  a  silken  shawl,  and  said  she  felt  the  undertaking 
very  much  after  her  reclusive  habits. 

"  This  is  a  capital  advertisement  for  Miss  Harbord's 
capabilities  as  a  hostess  !  "  said  Mrs.  Naseby,  in  her 
small  sharp-edged  voice.  She  happened  to  speak 
to  Madge,  who  remembered  Starling's  simile  of  the 
vinegar  bottle  with  the  stopper  left  out,  and  smiled 
involuntarily. 


170  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  Yes,  she  does  it  capitally  ! "  she  agreed  with  inten- 
tional amiability. 

"  Poor  girl !  how  unfortunate  she  has  always  been 
over  her  lovers  !  They  have  always  fallen  off.  I  am 
sure  I  can't  think  why,  for  she  would  make  a  very 
capable  wife,  I  am  sure.  I  wish  some  steady,  nice 
man  would  take  a  fancy  to  her ! " 

"  Oh,  well,  there  's  hope  for  us  yet,  Mrs.  Naseby ! " 
said  Madge,  with  a  flash  of  demure  mischief  in  her  eyes. 
"  Perhaps  we  may  get  a  few  more  chances  before  we 
have  done  !  "  She  looked  across  at  Polly,  pink-flushed 
and  daintily  dressed,  laughing  over  the  tea-things  with 
Major  Yeats. 

"  With  you,  of  course,  my  dear  !  "  said  Mrs.  Naseby, 
suavely.  "You  are  quite  a  young  girl.  But  with 
Polly  Harbord  !  —  I  don't  know.  Her  fifth  season, 
you  know !  " 

"  Really  ?  "  Madge  was  getting  bored  with  the  pin- 
pricks of  gossip.  What  did  it  all  matter,  even  to  this 
narrow,  spiteful  woman !  Were  there  not  larger  in- 
terests of  social  life  in  which  even  she  could  interest 
herself? 

"  Yes,  really,  quite  five  1  Oh,  I  remember  her  first 
appearance  here  !  I'm  telling  you  the  strict  truth,  my 
dear.  Most  people  think  she  looks  so  young  that  they 
discredit  it,  but  it 's  a  fact.  Odd  that  she  has  n't  mar- 
ried, isn't  it?  And  a  girl  has  so  many  chances  out 
here.  But  she  has  been  unfortunate.  I  really  did 
think  she  had  caught  young  Leighton;  she  tries  too 
obviously,  I  think  sometimes.  It  puts  the  men  off.  I 
could  tell  you  of  a  similar  case  not  a  hundred  miles 
away  !  The  girl  literally  ran  the  man  into  a  corner, 
and  he  was  so  disgusted  he  went  off  after  all  and  left 
her  lamenting." 

("  I  must  get  rid  of  this  woman,"  thought  Madge, 
wearily.  "  The  taste  she  leaves  in  my  mouth  is  too 
entirely  evil.")  "I  see  the  Dodds  are  back,"  she 
remarked. 


The  Story  of  Eden  171 

"  Yes,  they  came  home  last  night.  Mr.  Dodd  looks 
well,  does  n't  he  ?  They  have  been  up  to  Johannes- 
burg ;  he  has  large  interests  there.  Last  year  was  a 
terrible  time  for  him,  what  with  the  Raid  and  the  dyna- 
mite explosion,  and  all.  You  know,  of  course,  how  he 
made  his  money?" 

"No,"  said  Madge,  carelessly,  nodding  to  Starling 
across  a  crowd  of  mutual  acquaintances.  "  I  don't 
care  either.  In  concerns  me  much  more  how  he 
spends  it !  " 

"  Yes,  of  course,  they  entertain  largely.  He  secures 
a  certain  popularity  in  that  way,  and  gets  people  to  go 
to  his  house,  and  so  they  shut  their  eyes  to  the  Kim- 
berley  connection,  and  always  speak  of  him  as  a  Johan- 
nesburg man.  He  did  go  there  afterwards,  and  so  the 
original  story  was  forgotten.  Still  one  really  wonders 
if  it  is  true  !  I.  D.  B.,  you  know  ! " 

"  Excuse  me,  but  Mrs.  Dodd  is  beckoning  to  me  ! " 

Madge  made  her  escape,  gasping.  A  few  minutes 
more  would  probably  have  seen  the  destruction  of  half 
the  reputations  and  characters  of  the  people  there,  and 
she  was  wise  in  her  generation  and  preferred  to  know 
only  their  pleasant  side.  Starling  and  Mrs.  Dodd 
greeted  her  warmly,  and  Johnnie  himself  came  up  to 
her,  puffing  out  his  greeting  like  a  full  breeze  out  for  a 
holiday. 

"You're  looking  pale,  Miss  Madge!"  he  said. 
"  You  ought  to  have  come  away  with  us.  If  I  'd  known 
that  the  Professor  was  off  to  the  City  of  Saints,  I  'd 
have  taken  you,  whether  he  liked  it  or  not ! " 

"  He  never  told  me  until  the  Friday,"  said  Madge. 
"And  he  left  on  the  Monday.  I  don't  even  know  when 
he  will  be  back.  He  has  been  away  nearly  a  fortnight, 
but  I  have  had  no  intimation  of  his  return  !  How  did 
you  enjoy  your  trip?  " 

"  Oh,  splendid  !  Always  like  John'isburg.  I  'm  on 
my  own  ground  there,  you  know.  But  it 's  not  so  nice 
for  a  residence  as  this  part.  It 's  rough." 


ij2  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  I  thought  they  prided  themselves  on  the  gaiety  of 
their  society ! " 

"  Poor  devils,  they  're  not  very  gay  now !  Last 
year  put  a  damper  on  them  that  they  '11  take  a  while  to 
recover.  They  may  perk  up  over  the  Jubilee.  They 
are  pretty  gay  as  a  rule,  I  admit  —  well,  it  is  n't  like 
this,  you  know.  It  may  be  gay,  but  it 's  a  bit  rowdy  !  " 
said  Mr.  Johnnie,  with  an  explosion  of  laughter  like  the 
bursting  of  a  paper  bag.  "  All  money,  you  know,  —  no 
manners !  Unless  you  know  the  professional  class. 
They  're  quieter.  But  the  leaders  of  society  there  are 
the  people  with  the  biggest  pile,  and  the  women  think 
more  of  choosing  their  gowns  from  Paris,  than  of  choos- 
ing their  language.  Fact !  You  can't  take  your  wife 
to  the  public  balls  and  be  sure  she  won't  see  something 
rather  lively.  I  took  Mrs.  Johnnie  once  or  twice,  be- 
cause she  wanted  to  see.  Woman's  curiosity,  you 
know  ! " 

"  But  what  happened?  " 

"  Oh,  well,  one  of  our  leading  ladies  got  up  and 
insulted  another,  that 's  all.  She  would  n't  dance  in 
the  same  set  of  lancers,  so  the  first  woman  made  per- 
sonal remarks  —  recommended  her  to  keep  her  hands 
clean  ! " 

"  Mr.  Johnnie  !  " 

"  Fact.  We  thought  there  was  going  to  be  a  jolly 
big  fight ! "  He  gave  another  paper-bag  explosion. 
"  The  men  separated  them.  Mrs.  Johnnie  did  n't  want 
to  see  many  balls  after  that.  Starling 's  never  been  to 
one.  She  was  a  flapper  when  we  left  John'isburg,  and 
only  came  out  to  this  part  of  the  Colony." 

Mrs.  Dodd  turned  round  at  this  point,  and  asked 
where  Mrs.  Drysdale  was. 

"  Eric  had  the  measles,"  said  Margery.  "  And  the 
baby,  too.  I  have  n't  seen  Mrs.  Drysdale  for  weeks. 
They  are  both  better,  but  she  does  n't  go  about  yet." 

"  Why,  you  must  have  been  quite  stranded  for  com- 


The  Story  of  Eden  173 

pany ! "  said  Mrs.  Johnnie,  in  her  motherly  way. 
"Whatever  did  you  do  with  yourself?" 

Margery  put  her  hand  to  the  soft  laces  at  her  throat 
with  an  instinctive  gesture.  "I  —  saw  Polly  some- 
times!" she  said  with  an  odd  little  laugh.  "And 
True." 

"  Ah,  True  is  always  the  boy  for  looking  after  dis- 
tressed damsels !  "  returned  Mrs.  Johnnie,  smiling. 
"  I  'm  glad  you  saw  True.  Well,  Mr.  Livingston,  and 
how  are  you  ?  " 

"  Glad  to  see  you  back,  Mrs.  Johnnie  !  Well,  what 's 
the  news  ?  Hulloa,  Dodd !  Been  having  any  fresh 
fights  with  railway  guards  ?  You  pugnacious  savage  ! 
What 's  the  news  on  the  Rand?  Has  Kruger  got  an- 
other turn  on  the  screw  yet?  " 

"  '  Confound  his  politics ' !  "  quoted  Mr.  Johnnie, 
cheerily.  "Last  year  was  a  series  of  disasters,  and 
he  is  trading  on  them  !  The  only  hope  is,  he  will  go 
too  far." 

"  Never  mind,  it  must  come  to  war  sooner  or  later, 
and  then  every  one  will  get  a  chance,"  said  Livingston, 
airily.  "  Promotion  is  slow  in  the  Duke's.  Forrester 
says  that  they  daily  offer  up  prayers  for  the  continua- 
tion of  the  Transvaal  aggravation.  Jack  Vibart  is 
going  Home,  by  the  way." 

"  Yes,  so  we  hear.     When  does  he  sail  ?  " 

"  Some  time  in  June.  Miss  Cunningham,  where 
have  you  been?  I  have  been  playing  tennis,  and 
wanted  you  for  my  partner.  There  is  luck  in  our 
union.  I  played  with  you  on  your  first  appearance, 
you  know !  " 

"  I  remember,  —  but  we  lost."  A  curious,  wonder- 
ing look  fell  into  her  eyes.  The  slits  of  blue  between 
the  lashes  widened  into  the  perfect  iris  with  the  pupils 
dilated.  "  Three  months  ago  !  This  is  about  the  last 
tennis  we  shall  have,  they  say." 

"  Oh,  the  summer  is  over.     Those  rains  at  the  be- 


174  The  Story  of  Eden 

ginning  of  the  week  told  us  that.  You  were  talking  to 
Mrs.  Naseby  just  now.  Dear,  kind-hearted  soul ! 
What  did  she  say  of  me?" 

"  We  did  not  get  to  you  —  I  fled  !  " 

"  What  a  pity !  I  always  enjoy  the  reports  of  her 
criticisms  so  much.  Last  week  she  told  Drysdale  that 
I  was  in  financial  difficulties,  and  I  am  always  glad  to 
know  these  things,  because  one  should  provide  for  the 
winter.  What  was  she  desecrating  this  time  ?  " 

"  Polly's  character  as  hostess." 

"  That  is  rather  choice  1  —  because  Miss  Harbord  is 
known  of  old  to  be  unassailable  therein.  What  did 
Mrs.  Naseby  say?  " 

"  She  said  that  she  was  telling  me  the  absolute  truth. 
I  do  dislike  people  who  tell  me  the  truth,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly  !  In  fact  I  have  always  thought  the  best 
thing  to  do  with  the  truth  was  to  suppress  it.  Facts 
are  so  ill-bred." 

"  And  so  inartistic  !  —  Talk  of  an  angel !  Here  comes 
Mrs.  Naseby  herself,  bearing  down  on  us  after  the 
fashion  of  a  full-blown  battle-ship.  Can  we  escape?" 

They  could  not,  for  the  lady  in  question  came  to 
anchor  beside  them  at  once.  "  Well,  Mr.  Livingston," 
she  said,  "  I  saw  you  in  Cape  Town  yesterday  !  " 

"  I  am  often  seen,"  said  Beau,  serenely.  "  It  is  a 
habit  of  which  I  have  never  been  able  to  break 
myself." 

"  Perhaps,  too,  in  this  case  you  would  wish  to  !  You 
were  with  a  lady  !  " 

"  Ah,  who  was  it  ?  " 

"  No  one  I  know,  —  no  one  I  have  ever  seen  about 
here,  —  a  handsome  woman  in  red."  She  looked  ex- 
pectantly at  Beau,  who  lifted  his  hat  in  a  particularly 
charming  manner  to  some  one  in  the  distance  while 
she  spoke. 

"  And  so,"  he  said  pleasantly,  meeting  her  attentive 
eyes  with  the  frankest  smile,  "  you  saw  me  in  Cape 
Town, —with  a  lady  whom  you  didn't  know  —  in 


The  Story  of  Eden  175 

red."  He  looked  at  her  still  for  a  moment,  his  bril- 
liant blue  eyes  a  little  wider  than  usual.  "  How  fast ! " 
he  said,  as  though  the  criticism  were  forced  from  him. 
Then  he  turned  aside  and  shook  hands  with  a  passing 
acquaintance. 

"  What  does  he  mean?  "  Mrs.  Naseby  said  in  angry 
helplessness  to  Madge.  "I  certainly  saw  him,  and 
he  was  with  a  woman  who  might  have  been  —  any- 
body." 

"  She  probably  was  !  "  retorted  Madge.  "  It  is  an 
inclusive  word.  I  do  not  know  what  Mr.  Livingston 
meant.  Personally,  I  never  see  my  acquaintances  un- 
less I  feel  happy  in  the  conviction  that  they  see  me." 

"  He  has  a  very  questionable  character  for  that  sort 
of  thing  ! "  said  Mrs.  Naseby,  with  subdued  eagerness. 
"  You  may  not  know  it,  —  I  dare  say  a  young  girl  like 
you  would  not,  —  but  I  should  not  be  too  intimate  with 
him  if  I  were  you.  The  Strattons  had  to  send  away 
their  nurse  on  his  account.  Such  a  nice- mannered, 
satisfactory  woman,  too !  But  she  got  mixed  up  with 
Mr.  Livingston,  and  of  course  they  could  not  keep  her. 
I  hear  she  sailed  for  England  last  week,  but  goodness 
knows  where  she  has  been  since  she  left  them  !  —  per- 
haps Mr.  Livingston  does,  though.  Of  course  I  am 
only  telling  you  this  because,  being  without  an  older 
woman  as  you  are,  it  is  kinder  to  put  you  on  your 
guard  !  " 

"  Of  course,"  said  Margery,  in  an  untranslatable  tone, 
"but  don't  you  think  that,  as  I  am  not  supposed  to  know 
of  these  things  about  my  acquaintances  (and  I  really 
did  not !),  being,  as  you  say,  only  a  girl,  that  it  would  be 
better  to  leave  my  ignorance  to  protect  me?"  As  she 
spoke,  her  eyes  lit  suddenly  on  Vibart,  who  was  ap- 
proaching her ;  for  a  moment  she  paused  with  a  sense 
of  horrible  degradation, —  a  shock,  as  if  she  faced  her 
own  self.  "  Excuse  me  —  there  is  Major  Vibart !  " 
she  said.  "  I  want  to  ask  him  if  he  has  seen  Mrs. 
Dodd  ! "  And  she  went  to  meet  him. 


176  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  Well,  ma  mie,  how  are  you  !  "  he  said,  as  he  took 
her  hand  and  squeezed  it.  Vibart  was  a  man  who 
never  let  any  opportunity  slip  of  expressing  his  physi- 
cal emotion  towards  a  woman.  Affectionate  demon- 
strations came  so  easily  to  him  that  they  hardly  meant 
anything  more  than  a  more  restricted  nature's  simple 
greeting.  He  was  always  gay,  and  charming,  and  de- 
bonair, whatever  undercurrent  might  be  passing  between 
himself  and  one  of  the  opposite  sex.  Indeed,  Forrester 
had  once  made  a  statement  that  became  a  tradition, 
to  the  effect  that  the  Tracker  had  held  Mrs.  Cromo 
Dame's  hand  while  he  kissed  Miss  Montford  in  fancy, 
and  touched  Polly  Harbord's  foot  with  his  own, — all 
the  while  he  talked  politics  with  Johnnie  Dodd  !  It 
was  known  as  the  three-card  trick  in  the  Duke's. 

"I  am  all  right,"  said  Margery,  absently.  Her 
thoughts  were  puzzling  round  a  fragment  of  Mrs. 
Naseby's  scandal.  "The  Strattons  had  to  send  away 
their  nurse.  Such  a  nice-mannered  woman  too  !  She 
left  for  England  last  week."  Now  the  Strattons  were 
Rondebosch  people,  and  Madge  only  knew  them 
slightly.  She  had  never  visited  at  their  house,  and 
knew  neither  their  children  or  their  nurse  by  sight, 
but  a  suspicion  arose  in  her  mind  as  to  the  identity  of 
the  dismissed  woman  who  had  gone  back  to  England, 
and  —  Caroline  ! 

"  I  am  coming  round  to-night,"  Vibart  whispered,  as 
they  strolled  towards  the  tennis  courts.  "  I  have  n't 
seen  you  for  three  days  to  speak  to  properly,  my  love, 
and  I  'm  starving  !  "  He  glanced  down  at  her  senti- 
mentally, and  his  tone .  lowered  and  softened  with  the 
facile  alteration  in  which  he  was  a  past  master. 

Margery  came  back  from  her  speculation  with  a 
start.  She  did  not  answer  either  his  words  or  his  eyes 
for  a  second,  and  then  forced  herself  to  a  dutiful  up- 
ward glance,  wrestling  with  her  own  dismayed  con- 
sciousness that  she  wished  he  had  not  said  he  was 
coming,  —  that  she  did  not  look  forward  to  the  meet- 


The  Story  of  Eden  177 

ing  !  It  was  not  the  first  time  that  a  horrible  convic- 
tion had  dawned  upon  her,  that  at  times  she  would 
rather  have  been  alone  than  have  continued  those 
secret  meetings.  And  yet  she  did  continue  them, 
and  had  done  so  ever  since  her  excursion  to  Hout's 
Bay.  With  docile  endurance  she  did  whatever  he 
asked  her,  to  the  best  of  her  ability,  but  the  risks  she 
ran  of  detection,  and  the  constant  strain  and  excite- 
ment of  her  life,  made  her  feel  dragged  and  tired.  She 
wished  he  had  not  mentioned  one  of  those  assigna- 
tions ;  it  seemed  to  her  that  they  never  met  but  what 
he  referred  in  some  way  to  the  relations  between  them. 
Furthermore,  it  was  becoming  every  day  a  greater 
dread  in  her  mind  that  it  was  only  endurance  on  her 
part ;  she  got  no  pleasure  from  it,  but  she  clung  des- 
perately to  the  devoting  herself  entirely  to  his  wishes, 
the  more  she  felt  that  it  wearied  her.  She  shrank 
horrified  from  her  own  satiety.  True  love  knew  no 
such  phase,  and  she  had  cosseted  and  petted  the 
thought  that  her  passion  for  Vibart  was  as  sacred  as  a 
religion,  until  her  whole  self-esteem  relied  upon  it. 
For  if  this  were  not  the  one  great  passion  of  her  life, 
whose  unique  influence  on  her  excused  all  sacrifices  to 
it,  then  what  was  she?  She  dared  not  face  the 
thought,  and  denied  her  own  growing  indifference. 
She  could  not  recognise  the  natural  physical  reaction 
from  her  former  warmth,  because  she  had  never  ac- 
knowledged that  her  feeling  for  Vibart  was  physical  at 
all.  Even  his  teaching  had  not  brought  her  as  far  as 
that  at  present.  With  men,  she  acknowledged,  the 
material  side  of  things  might  always  be  paramount,  but 
with  women  it  was  not  so,  —  especially  not  so  in  her 
own  case.  By  and  by,  when  she  was  forced  to  recog- 
nise a  certain  truth  in  his  platitudes,  the  glib  creed  he 
taught  might  discover  that  it  had  taken  root  in  her 
mind,  and  then  it  would  bear  fruit. 

Vibart  inculcated  his  own  beliefs  and  experiences, 
and  destroyed  her  illusions,  half  unconsciously.    It  wa* 


178  The  Story  of  Eden 

the  inevitable  influence  of  the  more  developed  character 
upon  the  less,  and  he  came  as  undesignedly  to  a  men- 
tal possession  of  her  as  he  had  to  a  physical.  No  man 
is  a  deliberate  villain.  The  consequences  of  a  devia- 
tion from  law  and  order  are  too  obvious,  and  too  pro- 
bably unpleasant.  Vibart  meant  Margery  Cunningham 
no  actual  harm  when  he  first  began  to  pursue  her 
acquaintance ;  he  liked  the  sensual  emotion  which  the 
intercourse  with  her  provoked,  and  beyond  that  he 
was  as  indefinite  in  intention  as  Madge  herself.  He 
let  things  drift,  and  would  "just  see,"  as  she  had  done. 
As  he  grew  to  know  her  more  intimately,  his  attraction 
increased,  for  Madge  was  a  lovable  little  person,  and 
her  freshness,  and  the  satisfaction  of  feeling  certain 
that  he  was  the  first  in  her  experience,  was  inevitably 
fascinating  to  a  man  of  Vibart's  stamp.  As  his  passion 
grew,  his  tardy  qualms  of  conscience  vanished.  He 
spoke  the  truth  when  he  said  at  the  Beatrice  dance 
that  he  wished  them  to  be  "  all  in  all "  to  each  other, 
and  that  his  words  implied  an  illicit  love,  he  did  not  by 
that  time  care.  He  would,  if  he  could,  have  married 
the  girl ;  she  appealed,  in  the  first  place,  to  his  senses, 
but  he  had  the  wit  to  see  that  she  had  more  lasting 
powers  of  attraction  than  mere  flesh  and  blood.  He 
was  an  affectionate  fellow  at  bottom ;  it  was  generally 
through  his  easily  moved  feelings  that  he  was  entangled 
with  one  woman  or  another.  With  Madge  for  his  wife, 
he  would  have  been  very  happy  in  his  home  life,  the 
absence  of  which  he  really  felt,  though  he  never  for  an 
instant  deceived  himself  in  thinking  that  he  would  be 
faithful  to  her.  "  It  is  out  of  all  reason  for  a  man  and 
woman  to  stick  solely  to  each  other,"  he  argued.  "  No 
married  couple  ever  did  it  and  lived  contentedly  to- 
gether. I  am  the  first  with  Madge,  but  I  shall  not  be 
the  last,  —  if  she  marries,  her  husband  won't  be  that. 
I  have  only  shown  her  what  she  must  inevitably  learn, 
and  widened  her  experience.  She  was  unformed,  but 
she  had  infinite  capabilities.  She  will  be  twice  as 


The  Story  of  Eden  179 

alluring  now."  He  preached  this  doctrine  by  de- 
grees to  Madge,  during  their  intercourse,  which  had 
been  more  intermittent  than  he  intended,  owing  to 
official  causes. 

The  death  of  the  Duke's  Colonel,  and  the  delay  in 
appointing  a  successor,  had  thrown  additional  work 
onto  his  shoulders,  and  put  a  restraint  upon  many  of 
his  private  pursuits.  It  often  happened  that  he  re- 
ceived news  to  change  his  plans  at  a  minute's  notice, 
and  communicated  the  same  to  Madge  in  a  few  words, 
uttered  under  his  breath,  when  they  met  in  social  high- 
ways and  byways,  so  that  she  had  always  to  hold  her- 
self ready,  and  arrange  her  own  engagements  to  suit 
his,  as  far  as  was  possible.  She  almost  dreaded  meeting 
him  at  her  friends'  houses,  for  this  reason,  —  she  al- 
lowed so  much  to  herself,  but  explained  it  under  the 
plea  that  the  uncertainty  made  concealment  of  their 
intercourse  doubly  difficult.  She  was,  to  her  own  hor- 
ror, becoming  a  skilful  prevaricator,  and  sometimes 
she  feared  that  her  friends  detected  it.  In  the  present 
instance,  there  was  an  awkward  factor  in  the  situation. 

"Polly  is  coming  round  to  have  dinner  with  me, 
after  she  has  got  Mrs.  Wrighton  to  bed  again,  —  she  is 
sure  to  collapse  after  this  !  "  she  said.  "  What  shall  I 
do,  Jack?  Will  you  come  later?  " 

"  Get  rid  of  her  after  dinner.  It 's  a  pity  to  lose  an 
opportunity  while  your  brother  is  away.  I  can  get  off 
to-night,  and  I  do  want  to  have  a  talk  with  you,  pretty 
one  !  When  will  Cunningham  be  back?" 

"  I  don't  know,  he  has  n't  written.  Don't  come  till 
ten,  Jack.  Polly  stays  so  long  talking  !  " 

"  All  right.  I  can  smoke  in  the  arbour  until  I  hear 
her  go." 

"  It 's  a  good  thing  that  Kaffir  servants  don't  chatter 
like  white  ones ! "  remarked  Margery,  with  an  inward 
shrug  at  herself.  "As  far  as  using  their  intelligence 
goes  to  make  mischief,  one  treats  them  very  much  as 


i8o  The  Story  of  Eden 

though  they  were  dumb  animals,  and  could  n't  speak  ! 
And  yet,  even  though  I  do  not  believe  they  under- 
stand much  that  is  not  said  absolutely  to  them,  they 
must  have  grasped  the  situation  sufficiently  to  think  — 
something." 

She  turned  with  irrepressible  relief  to  Captain  Bar- 
ton, and  they  all  stood  beyond  the  wire  netting,  chat- 
ting, until  Vibart  was  called  away  to  play  tennis. 

He  rarely  lingered  long  at  Madge's  side  in  public,  as 
he  had  done  before  their  greater  intimacy ;  but  some- 
times it  became  a  question  in  her  mind  whether  this 
very  carefulness  was  not  marked  and  understood 
by  a  Society  by  no  means  ignorant  of  such  manoeuvres. 
Even  while  she  chatted  gaily  with  Barton,  the  same 
speculation  crossed  her  mind,  and  she  met  his  fine 
shallow  eyes  and  wondered  what  opinion  of  her  lay  be- 
hind their  surface  friendliness.  He  began  telling  her 
a  joke  relating  to  a  mutual  acquaintance,  as  only  an 
Irishman  can,  and  their  united  laughter  brought  Beau- 
mont Livingston  into  their  neighbourhood. 

"What  are  you  laughing  at?"  he  said.  "I  have  to 
hear  people  enjoying  themselves  when  I  'in  not  in  it. 
Miss  Cunningham,  Mrs.  Dodd  says  she  wants  to  go 
home  and  take  you  with  her,  and  I  have  told  her  that 
people  ought  not  to  have  what  they  want,  it  is  so  bad 
for  them, —  particularly  when  it  is  chocolate  almonds. 
Did  you  see  Barton  clear  the  plate  of  them,  by  the 
way?  Don't  deny  it,  Barton,  because  I  can  bring  three 
untrustworthy  witnesses  to  prove  it.  Miss  Cunningham, 
surely  you  are  not  going  to  be  immoral  enough  to  in- 
dulge Mrs.  Dodd,  and  leave?  " 

"  I  really  ought  to  begin  saying  good-bye,  at  any  rate," 
said  Madge.  "There  are  such  a  lot  of  people  here 
that  I  know,  that  I  am  sure  I  can't  say  where  or  when 
I  shall  end  I" 

"  If  we  should  see  the  end  we  should  never  make 
the  beginning  1 "  said  Livingston,  lightly.  "The  veil 


The  Story  of  Eden  181 

which  shrouds  the  future  shows  the  craftiness  of  a 
Providence  which  does  not  wish  the  world  to  stand 
still.  You  will  end  with  Mrs.  Naseby,  who  will  poison 
your  last  moments  at  this  festive  gathering  by  a  re- 
chauffe" of  all  our  backslidings,  past,  present,  and  to 
come?  " 

"  I  hope  not  indeed !  It  is  just  what  I  wish  to 
avoid." 

She  spoke  with  a  little  shrug  of  distaste,  for  Mrs. 
Naseby's  opinions  of  her  fellow-creatures  had  been 
formed  out  of  the  refuse  of  many  London  seasons,  and  a 
short  sojourn  among  the  converted  Natives  of  a  corner 
of  Pongo-land,  whither  her  husband's  malignant  star 
had  led  him.  For  if  heathens  could  be  so  depraved 
after  a  little  teaching,  to  what  depths  must  not  a  civ- 
ilised and  Christian  community  have  slipped  ?  —  as  ex- 
emplified by  her  own  experience. 

The  Professor  returned  to  Wynberg  at  the  end  of  the 
month,  with  a  cold  and  three  new  Coleoptera.  He 
came  suddenly,  as  sorrows  come,  and  Madge  forbore 
to  ask  how  he  had  enjoyed  his  holiday,  on  account  of 
his  obvious  sense  of  injury  in  his  present  misfortune. 
She  preferred  to  judge  from  his  protracted  stay,  and 
abuse  of  everything  in  and  about  Wynberg,  and  was 
thankful  that  the  few  hours'  notice  he  gave  her  of  his 
arrival  was  sufficient  to  find  everything  in  readiness  for 
him.  As  he  came  in  from  the  stoep  from  the  early  dark 
of  a  May  evening,  and  she  met  him  in  the  hall,  she 
was  surprised  to  see  him  with  new  eyes,  as  a  peevish, 
elderly  man,  ill-tempered  and  selfish,  but  an  unim- 
portant object  for  fear.  Had  she  ever  dreaded  him  ? 
Had  she  out-grown  her  fear  during  his  absence  ?  In 
what  material  way  had  their  relations  to  each  other  so 
far  altered,  that  she  took  and  gave  greeting  composedly, 
and  knew  that,  beyond  grumbling  at  existence  in 
general,  he  would  find  no  fault.  She  could  not  tell, 
but  was  conscious  of  a  subtle  alteration  in  herself  or 


1 82  The  Story  of  Eden 

her  circumstances,  which  was  but  beginning.  Her  new. 
found  strength  gave  her  the  nerve  to  face,  as  she  had 
never  dared  to  do,  his  possible  discovery  of  the  situation 
between  her  and  Vibart,  and  to  plan  and  guard  against 
it. 

The  new  Colonel  arrived  to  take  over  the  command 
of  the  Duke's  at  the  end  of  May,  and  Vibart  left  a  fort- 
night later.  During  his  last  week  in  Wynberg,  all 
Madge's  energies  were  taxed  to  contrive  their  inter- 
course, to  manage  the  household  of  Vine  Lodge  so  that 
it  should  run  smoothly,  and  to  nurse  her  brother,  whose 
cold  had  developed  sufficient  virulence  to  drive  him  to 
bed.  He  objected  to  his  sister  remaining  in  the  room 
with  him ;  but  his  habit  of  ringing  his  bell  whenever  he 
lacked  distraction,  or  thought  she  might  be  busy  else- 
where, kept  her  mind  on  the  stretch.  He  was  still 
confined  to  his  room  when  Vibart  came  to  say  good-bye, 
before  proceeding  to  Cape  Town  where  he  embarked. 

It  was  a  wet  morning  the  first  of  the  really  broken 
Winter  weather ;  the  blinds  were  all  up  in  the  drawing- 
room,  which  looked  cold  and  chill  without  its  accus- 
tomed sunshine,  in  spite  of  the  fire  which  Madge  had  had 
lighted.  She  stood  opposite  to  him  on  the  hearth  rug, 
looking  down  into  the  glowing  coals.  Outside  she 
could  hear  the  rain  licking  against  the  house  and 
thundering  on  the  zinc  roofing  of  the  stoep  with  the 
rattle  of  big  drums.  Now  and  then  a  great  gust  of 
wind  lifted  it  in  streaming  lines  and  drove  it  through 
the  fir-trees.  The  mountains  were  blotted  out,  and  the 
sky  leaned  low  over  the  earth,  heavy  with  moisture,  and 
with  a  bosom  full  of  water.  After  their  first  kiss,  Mar- 
gery and  Vibart  had  stood  silent,  as  if  by  tacit  consent, 
facing  each  other,  as  if  some  reflection  of  their  coming 
estrangement  had  touched  them  already. 

"  It  might  be  almost  England,  with  the  fire  and  the 
rain !  "  Margery  said  at  last. 

"  Yes.  —  Madge,  will  you  —  " 


The  Story  of  Eden  183 

She  knew  from  the  increasing  fulness  of  his  tone 
that  he  was  going  to  ask  some  useless  pledge  of  her, 
and  stirred  with  instinctive  protest.  Would  she  re- 
member?—  yes,  if  she  could  not  forget.  Would  she 
care  still?  —  yes,  she  supposed  so.  It  seemed  inevi- 
table. Had  she  wanted  to  weight  her  life  with  love  for 
him? 

"Jack,  don't !  "  she  said  softly.  "  It  is  no  use  talk- 
ing. We  have  nothing  to  say.  We  must  just  wait  and  — 
see." 

"  You  '11  write  to  me,  darling  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  I  suppose  so." 

"  Only  suppose  so,  Madge  !  " 

"  Oh,  how  can  one  tell !  "  she  exclaimed  in  real  quick 
pain  at  last.  "How  long  do  human  emotions  last? 
You  have  told  me  so  often,  yourself,  that  they  never 
do  !  It  must  be  all  in  all  for  the  time  being  —  that 
is  the  best  one  can  hope  for  !  It  must  go,  later. 
Well,  I  've  given  you  —  everything !  " 

"  Yes,  I  know.  You  've  been  an  angel,  and  I  'm 
utterly  grateful.  I  love  you  more  than  any  woman  in 
the  world,  Madge,  and  I  believe  I  always  shall."  He 
drew  her  into  his  arms  and  began  to  pet  her.  "  Listen, 
Sweet !  Your  brother  has  some  idea  of  coming  Home, 
either  this  year  or  next  —  he  told  me  so  himself,  and 
you  can  guess  I  fostered  the  idea.  Then  we  '11  meet 
in  Town  and  be  together  again." 

"Yes !  "  She  tried  to  think  that  the  hope  was  all 
that  kept  her  calm,  and  could  have  torn  herself  for  her 
own  lack  of  feeling.  "  We  '11  have  that  to  look  forward 
to,  Jack." 

He  laid  his  face  down  against  hers,  and  they  stood 
so  for  a  moment  without  speaking. 

"  There  is  Anthony's  bell !  "  Madge  said  suddenly. 
She  pushed  him  from  her,  and  gave  a  queer  little  cough 
as  if  to  clear  the  catch  in  her  breath.  "  Good-bye.  I 
hope  you  won't  get  very  wet  driving  to  the  Station  — 


184  The  Story  of  Eden 

what  a  fearful  day  it  is  !  It  can  rain  here  !  Nature  is 
crying  over  your  departure." 

"  I  '11  telegraph  when  we  start,"  he  said,  still  hold- 
ing her  as  if  loth  at  the  last  to  loose  his  arms.  "  Look 
out  for  it,  or  it  might  fall  into  your  brother's  hands. 
Good-bye,  my  own  darling  —  " 

She  meant  to  part  without  a  further  word,  but  at  the 
last  some  impulse  made  her  clasp  her  hands  behind  his 
handsome  head  and  whisper,  "  Don't  quite  forget  me, 
Jack  !  "  She  did  not  hear  his  answer. 

The  Professor's  bell  was  ringing  very  angrily  indeed 
as  she  ran  upstairs,  without  waiting  to  see  Vibart  leave 
the  house.  She  heard  the  hall  door  shut,  but  could 
not  look  out  of  the  window  after  the  Cape  cart  which 
took  him  to  the  Station  through  the  blurr  of  the  rain, 
for  attending  to  the  Professor's  exacting  demands. 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?  What  on  earth  have  you 
been  doing?"  he  burst  forth  as  soon  as  she  entered 
the  room.  "  I  "ve  rung  a  dozen  times,  and  no  one 
answers  !  I  might  die  in  my  bed,  and  you  would  n't 
attend,  I  suppose.  I  want  my  medicine  —  it 's  past 
the  time  for  it  now,  and  I  don't  know  if  I  ought  to 
take  it !  " 

"  I  have  only  kept  you  waiting  a  few  minutes,  and  it 
won't  hurt  you  at  all  to  take  it,"  said  Madge,  calmly. 
"  There  was  some  one  here,  and  I  could  n't  come  on 
the  instant." 

The  Professor  grunted  and  lay  down  again,  glaring 
helplessly.  But  Margery  had  her  back  to  him,  as  she 
selected  the  necessary  one  from  a  forest  of  bottles,  and 
it  had  no  effect  on  her. 

"Who  was  it?"  he  said  viciously.  "It's  just  like 
you  to  neglect  me  for  any  chance  idiot  who  calls  to 
gossip  with  you  !  Was  it  any  one  of  importance  ?  " 

"  It  was  only  Major  Vibart,"  said  Margery,  quietly, 
as  she  measured  the  medicine.  "  He  came  to  say 
good-bye." 


PART    TWO 


PART    TWO 


CHAPTER  X 

"  Far-seeing  heart !  if  that  be  all, 
The  happy  things  that  did  not  fall* 
I  sighed,  "from  every  coppice  call — 

They  never  from  that  garden  went. 
Behold  their  joy,  so  comfort  thee, 
Behold  the  blossom  and  the  bee, 
For  they  are  yet  as  good  and  free 

As  when  poor  Eve  was  innocent? 

"  Officers'  wives  get  puddings  and  pies, 
Soldiers'  wives  get  skilly  I " 

THE  bugle  played  across  the  distance  between  the 
Camp  and  Vine  Lodge  as  it  had  played  for  twelve 
months.  There  was  no  alteration  in  the  sunny,  in- 
tervening land,  except  that  the  vines  had  grown  a  little, 
and  one  or  two  cottages  had  been  repainted.  They 
looked  startlingly  white  against  the  shaded  green  back- 
ground of  the  trees,  whose  species  were  not  distinguish- 
able, but  were  blurred  into  a  harmony  of  colour  as  seen 
from  the  Vine  Lodge  garden.  Madge  sat  on  the  stoep, 
reading.  It  was  one  o'clock,  but  she  did  not  hurry  in. 
Luncheon  was  not  until  half  past,  and  she  no  longer 
had  to  hover  in  trembling  anticipation  while  Mary  laid 
the  cloth  and  made  mistakes.  There  were  few  mis- 
takes at  Vine  Lodge  nowadays.  It  was  smoothly  and 
evenly  conducted,  and  such  jars  as  occurred  melted 
imperceptibly  away.  Madge  was  a  different  person  in 
importance  to  what  she  had  been  twelve  months  ago. 
The  Professor  no  longer  stormed  and  raved,  though  his 
nature  demanded  that  he  should  still  grumble  when  his 
liver  was  out  of  order. 


1 88  The  Story  of  Eden 

There  was  nothing  much  to  grumble  at,  but  he  was 
fertile  in  excuse.  Even  his  language  was  more  re- 
stricted, however,  and  he  did  not  calculate  upon  fury 
to  produce  a  geneial  subservience ,  his  sister  had  a 
way  of  standing  and  looking  at  him  until  he  had  quite 
finished,  making  one  small  remark,  and  leaving  his 
presence.  The  remark  was  always  very  small,  but  no 
portion  of  it  was  wasted.  Anthony  Cunningham  had 
learned  to  respect  his  sister,  and  think  over  her  scath- 
ing little  speeches.  He  knew  he  could  not  cow  her ; 
he  liked  the  velvet  wheels  upon  which  his  household 
worked ;  he  was  vain  of  the  social  success  which  at- 
tended Vine  Lodge  in  all  its  ventures,  whether  at 
home  or  abroad ;  and  the  result  was  a  growing  civility 
in  their  relations.  Margery  had  learned  to  manage  a 
difficult  household,  and  to  adapt  herself  to  circum- 
stances which  would  have  worn  down  many  an  older 
and  less  tenacious  nature,  but  the  inherent  youth  in 
her  stood  her  in  good  stead. 

She  was  still  very  young  as  she  sat  in  the  sunshine, 
reading ;,  but  the  year's  experience  had  left  its  mark  on 
her  face,  in  a  certain  firm  set  of  her  lips,  which  might 
have  been  hardness,  if  they  had  not  smiled  so  readily,  a 
certain  poise  of  her  head,  a  certain  dry  decision  in 
speaking  of  some  indisputable  fact  of  life.  She  taught 
with  authority,  —  the  authority  of  knowledge,  —  and  not 
as  do  the  theoretical  scribes.  Her  secret  experience 
had  had  its  part  also  in  moulding  her,  but  less  visibly. 
The  Vibart  incident,  strangely  enough,  had  had  a 
mental  result  though  its  agency  was  purely  physical. 
As  far  as  Vibart  was  concerned,,  he  had  left  her,  out- 
wardly, as  he  found  her,  and  her  appearance  was  as 
young  as  ever,  not  a  curve  lost,  not  a  roundness  of 
youth  displaced,  or  a  line  added.  Her  departure  from 
conventional  morality  had  affected  Margery  Cunning- 
ham as  little  as  though  she  had  been  a  happy  wife. 
There  exists  a  mistaken  notion  that  this  is  always  the 


The  Story  of  Eden  189 

case  with  those  who  do  not  break  the  Eleventh  Com- 
mandment, and  that  so  long  as  they  are  not  found  out 
they  suffer  no  remorse.     Human  nature  is  nobler  than 
that;  but  the  punishment  does  not  necessarily  follow 
swiftly  upon  the  disobedience,  which  after  all  is  only 
disobedience  to  an  artificial  law,  so  long  as  no  other 
factor  enters  in  to  actualise  the  crime.     Margery  owed 
no  allegiance  to  any  one  but  Vibart  —  had  wronged  no 
one  in  her  own  estimation,  since  she  regarded  his  wife 
as  dead.     The  fear  of  discovery  —  which  means  the 
fear  of  infringing  certain  social  restrictions  —  had  cer- 
tainly acted  to  develop  her  brain,  for  she  had  learned 
to  think  and  deduce,  where  before  she  had  only  felt 
and  acted.     But  sin  only  follows  a  natural  act  where 
some  person  is  wronged,  —  as  far  as  the  natural  act 
goes,  reason  itself  cannot  accuse  the  perpetrator.     The 
unwritten  law  which  divides  men  and  women  was  the 
necessary  preventive  of  excess  when  Humanity  put  on 
civilisation  and  could  no  longer  rule  itself  naturally, 
without  the  Deified  "  Thou  shalt  not ; "  and  the  natural 
instinct  remains  the  same  yesterday,  and  to-day,  and 
forever,  and  verifies  itself  wherever  is  the  least  laxity 
of  law  and  order,  in  whatever  settlement  or  state  of 
society  men  and  women   find   themselves   allowed  a 
greater  licence,  and  freed  from  the  fear  of  the  restric- 
tions to  which  they  have    subscribed.     In  all  Anglo- 
Alien  society,  where  the  population  is  a  floating  one, 
the  tendency  to  greater  intimacy  between  the  sexes  is 
universal,  the  knowledge  that  it  can  be  only  temporary 
proving  both  an  excuse  and  a  temptation.     The  morals 
of  such  society  are  no  more  assailable  than  those  of  a 
country  town  in  England,  whose  greater  restraint  is  due 
to  tradition  and  circumstance.     After  all,  the  transfer- 
ence of  one  unit  from  the  country  town  to  the  Anglo- 
Alien  community  would  probably  result,  as  in  Margery's 
case,  in  the  unit  succumbing  to  the  influence  of  the 
atmosphere  in  which  it  found  itself;  and  even  country 


190  The  Story  of  Eden 

towns  are  not  devoid  of  their  scandals,  leaking  out 
through  the  straight  hedges  which  confine  their  Gar- 
dens of  Eden. 

When  the  bugle  sounded  for  the  second  time,  Mar- 
gery rose  leisurely  and  went  into  the  house.  Her 
glance  over  the  table  showed  her  that  everything  was 
satisfactory,  and  she  struck  the  little  table  gong  and  sat 
down  in  her  own  place.  A  minute  later  the  Professor 
appeared  with  an  open  letter  in  his  hand,  and  worry  in 
his  very  footfall. 

"  The  post  has  just  come,"  he  said,  with  undisguised 
irritation,  as  he  attacked  his  luncheon. 

"  So  I  perceive  !  I  am  afraid  it  is  not  a  satisfactory 
one  for  you,  to  judge  by  your  expression,"  said  Margery 
dryly. 

"It  is  some  damned  fool  from  Up  Country  who 
wants  to  foist  himself  upon  us  ! "  burst  out  the  Pro- 
fessor, with  obvious  injury.  "He  says  I  stayed  with 
him  in  Rhodesia  some  years  ago,  and  he  wants  to 
intrude  on  me  for  a  couple  of  days  while  he  looks  out 
for  a  place  of  abode.  Yes,  and  it  is  intruding,  and  so 
I  shall  tell  him  !  " 

"  Nonsense,  Anthony,  you  can't  do  anything  of  the 
sort !  If  you  accepted  the  man's  hospitality,  of  course 
you  must  return  it.  That  is  a  Colonial  law !  Is  he 
really  a  savage  ?  " 

"I  don't  know.  I  don't  remember  a  thing  about 
him  !  —  except  that  he  lived  right  Up  Country  without 
a  soul  within  six  miles  of  him." 

"  I  suppose  you  really  did  stay  there?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  I  was  studying  the  larvae  of  certain  orthop- 
tera  which  swarm  there,  and  found  his  farm  most  cen- 
tral and  convenient  for  my  work.  It  was  well  away 
from  interruption  of  any  kind,  for  he  rarely  saw  a  soul 
save  the  Kaffirs  who  worked  for  him.  Now  and  then 
another  settler  would  drive  over  on  business.  But  it 
was  seldom.  I  was  there  six  weeks,  and  we  only  had 
three  visitors." 


The  Story  of  Eden  191 

"  Six  weeks  !  My  dear  Anthony  !  And  you  grudge 
the  poor  man  his  '  couple  of  days  '  !  " 

"  It  is  very  different.  I  am  a  Scientist,  and  I  was  in 
pursuit  of  a  special  subject.  It  was  no  trouble  to  him 
to  have  me  in  his  house,  and  we  hardly  saw  anything 
of  each  other.  We  have  nothing  in  common.  Now 
he  will  be  upsetting  my  house,  and  interrupting  my 
work,  and  it  is  most  important  that  I  should  not  be 
disturbed  just  now." 

"  Yes,  it  always  is  !  But  this  man  must  certainly 
come,  and  you  must  not  refuse  to  put  him  up  even 
though  he  wears  a  blanket  and  a  bead  necklace  for 
all  his  clothing ! "  said  Margery,  with  quiet  decision. 
"  It  need  not  interrupt  you.  I  will  undertake  him. 
Does  he  come  straight  down  from  Rhodesia  to  us?" 

"  No,  he  has  left  farming,  and  been  living  just  out  of 
Johannesburg  for  some  time.  There  "s  his  letter  —  " 
he  threw  it  across  the  table.  "  If  you  want  him  to 
come,  you  must  look  after  him,  that 's  all !  I  wash  my 
hands  of  the  whole  business." 

Margery  took  the  letter  with  a  little  shrug,  that 
acknowledged  the  Professor's  skilfulness  in  shifting  a 
disagreeable  responsibility  onto  her  shoulders.  He 
knew  perfectly  well  that  he  must  admit  his  former 
entertainer  into  his  house ;  but  as  Madge  had  fortu- 
nately taken  up  the  cudgels  on  his  behalf,  he  seized  it  as 
a  pretext  to  excuse  himself  from  further  trouble  on  his 
own  part. 

"  He  writes  well,"  Margery  remarked.  "  '  Lansing 
Crofton,'  —  it  is  n't  a  bad  letter.  I  don't  think  he 
can  be  quite  uncivilised,  Anthony.  If  he  lives  near 
Johannesburg,  he  must  have  seen  some  sort  of  society. 
They  think  themselves  much  superior  to  us  up  there  ! " 

"  I  hate  Johannesburghers  !  They  are  all  rich  fools 
and  poor  rogues.  It  seems  a  special  arrangement  of 
Providence,  that  the  rogues  may  prey  upon  the  fools  ! 
Vou  will  find  that  he  brags  of  his  sharp  practice,  if  he 


192  The  Story  of  Eden 

has  caught  the  tone  of  the  place.  It  is  rather  too  sharp 
practice  for  this  part,  as  a  rule,  as  he  will  find  out  if  he 
tries  it  on." 

"  I  see  he  means  to  settle  in  the  neighbourhood," 
said  Madge,  as  she  turned  the  page.  "At  least  he 
seems  rather  vague  as  to  what  he  wants  to  do.  Has 
he  made  his  fortune  ?  " 

"  He  had  not.  But  he  may  have  swindled  some- 
body since  he  has  been  in  the  Transvaal !  "  said  the 
Professor,  with  a  disagreeable  laugh. 

"  He  does  n't  give  us  much  notice.  According  to 
this,  he  will  reach  here  to-day  !  I  will  drive  down  to 
the  Station  about  four  and  see  if  I  can  see  any  one 
likely  to  be  he.  What  is  he  like,  by  the  way?  Will 
you  come  with  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  good  heavens,  how  should  I  know  what  he  is 
like  !  I  've  forgotten  all  about  the  bally  fool !  No,  of 
course,  I  can't  come.  If  you  like  to  go  on  a  wild  goose 
chase,  you  can.  You  '11  never  find  him.  You  'd  better 
let  him  turn  up  by  himself.  He  knows  the  address." 

"Calm  yourself!"  said  Madge,  with  a  mocking 
smile.  "  It  won't  hurt  me  even  though  I  should  drive 
to  the  Station  for  nothing,  and  it  will  look  attentive 
and  help  to  smooth  over  the  lack  of  cordiality  on  your 
part.  You  would  n't  have  been  able  to  avoid  having 
him  here  for  one  night,  in  any  case,  Anthony.  He 
takes  your  consent  for  granted,  you  see,  and  he  says 
he  shall  arrive  to-day !  Even  you  could  hardly  insist 
on  his  going  to  the  Vineyard  or  Cogill's." 

"  I  '11  bundle  him  off  pretty  quickly,  if  I  find  him  a 
nuisance  ! "  grumbled  the  Professor,  as  he  left  the 
room,  followed  by  a  last  despairing  question  from  his 
sister  —  "  Can't  you  give  me  any  idea  what  he  is  like  ? 
You  must  know  whether  he  is  fair  or  dark  —  tall  or 
short  —  that  would  be  something  to  go  on  1 " 

"  He  is  a  middle-sized  man,  to  the  best  of  my  recol- 
lection," snapped  the  Professor  from  the  hall.  "  He 


The  Story  of  Eden  193 

had  a  beard  when  savaging  it  in  the  veld  —  probably 
because  he  was  too  lazy  to  shave.  A  dirty  trick  !  His 
hair  is,  or  was,  very  dark.  He  probably  shaves  blue  !  " 
Then  he  went,  and  Madge  laughed  in  spite  of  herself. 
She  gave  the  necessary  orders  to  the  servants  to 
prepare  a  room  for  Mr.  Crofton,  and  having  seen  them 
carried  out,  went  out  again  onto  the  stoep  in  a  leisurely 
fashion,  to  await  a  reasonable  hour  for  her  "  wild  goose 
chase  "  drive  to  the  Station.  She  had  a  book  with 
her,  and  it  was  poetry.  This  was  not  a  general  taste 
of  Margery's,  but  she  understood  it  better  now  than 
she  had  done  a  year  since,  and  some  things  in  the  un- 
pretentious little  volume  had  appealed  to  her.  The 
book  had  belonged  to  Vibart;  his  name  had  been 
written  in  it,  in  a  woman's  handwriting.  When  he 
first  brought  it  to  her  to  show  her  some  lines  that  he 
thought  applicable  to  their  mutual  feelings,  she  had  been 
half  jealous  of  the  unknown  donor,  and  had  kept  the 
book  because  she  did  not  like  him  to  have  it.  Since 
then  she  had  thought  more  of  the  woman  who  had  given 
it  to  him  than  of  Jack.  She  wondered  who  she  was, 
and  if  her  experiences  had  been  in  any  way  like  her 
own.  It  was  a  curious  little  odd  volume  to  have  come 
into  Vibart's  possession,  and  some  experience  must 
surely  have  been  connected  with  it  to  make  it  open  so 
easily  at  this  — 

"  Something  has  gone. 
Oh,  life,  great  giver  as  thou  art, 

Something  has  gone. 
Not  love,  for  love  as  years  roll  on 
Plays  evermore  a  fuller  part. 
But  of  the  treasure  of  my  heart 
Something  has  gone." 

Margery  dimly  understood  it,  and  realised  without 
as  yet  being  afraid  of  the  truth  of  such  a  realisation. 
Loss  meant  nothing  to  her  as  yet,  while  she  did  not  re- 
cognise the  value  of  the  thing  foregone.  She  regarded 


The  Story  of  Eden 

it  coldly,  as  an  incontrovertible   fact,   but  without  a 

pang. 

"  But  of  the  treasure  of  my  heart 
Something  has  gone  !  " 

She  turned  the  leaves  lazily ;  few  people  ever  saw  that 
little  old  brown  volume,  because  Vibart,  in  a  mood  of 
more  sentiment  than  caution,  had  made  marginal  notes 
to  the  more  erotic  of  the  poems.  He  had  as  a  rule 
taught  and  practised  prudence ;  but  the  more  riotous 
emotions  will  not  only  quicken  men  and  women  into  a 
temporary  comprehension  of  things  that  would  otherwise 
be  a  sealed  book  to  them,  —  poetry,  amongst  others,  — 
but  will  occasionally  relax  their  worldly  wisdom. 

"  Rappelle-toi  ?  "  Vibart  had  written  against  some 
marked  lines  — 

"  We  're  of  one  mind  to  love,  and  there  's  no  let; 
Remember  that,  and  all  the  rest  forget. 
And  let 's  be  happy,  dearest,  while  we  may, 
Ere  yet  to-morrow  shall  be  called  to-day. 
To-morrow  may  be  heedless,  idle-hearted  : 
One  night 's  enough  for  love  to  have  met  and  parted !  " 

Other  annotations  of  his  were  equally  applicable  and 
outspoken.  Indeed  in  one  case  he  had  written  such 
copious  comparisons  between  her  and  the  lady  of  the 
poem,  that  she  had  been  fain  to  rub  them  out. 

"  What  are  lips,  but  to  be  kissed? 

What  are  eyes,  not  to  be  praised  ? 
What  is  she  that  would  resist 

Love's  desire  to  be  embraced  ? 
What  her  heart  that  will  not  dare 

Suffer  poor  Love  to  linger  there  ? " 

"I  suppose  it  is  always  like  that,"  said  Margery 
vaguely.  She  had  sometimes  tried  wistfully  to  picture 
a  wider  and  more  sacred  love,  but  experience  failed 
her.  She  looked  down  at  the  printed  page  regretfully. 

*  What  are  lips,  but  to  be  kissed  ? "  — 


The  Story  of  Eden  195 

Then  her  eyes  went  along  the  gravel  of  the  drive,  and 
brightened.  Some  one  was  turning  out  of  the  lane, 
between  the  two  big  beds  of  flowers  bordering  the 
drive,  and  coming  straight  towards  her,  —  some  one 
with  a  sunburnt  face  and  smiling  eyes  that  were  large 
and  clear  even  at  that  distance.  Madge  slipped  the 
little  brown  book  out  of  sight,  and  called  a  cheery 
greeting. 

"What's  become  of  the  Meet?" 

"  There  was  n't  one  to-day,"  said  True,  as  he  shook 
hands.  "  But  we  had  a  good  run  last  Saturday.  All 
out  by  Bishop's  Court,  and  across  the  Peninsula,  al- 
most to  Kalk  Bay.  We  killed  at  Kalk  Bay.  He  was 
such  a  pretty  fellow  !  I  should  have  liked  to  bring  you 
the  skin,  Lady  !  " 

"  Poor  little  jackal  —  I  wonder  you  can  be  so  cruel, 
True  !  "  Margery  laughed  a  little,  and  pulled  her  dress 
away  from  the  edge  of  the  stoep.  True  accepted  the 
invitation.  He  sat  down,  and  resting  his  shoulder 
against  her  knee,  looked  up  at  her  expressively. 

"  Well?  "  she  said,  still  laughing.    "  Comfortable?  " 

"  Very,  thanks.     What  are  you  doing  to-day?  " 

"  Anthony  is  in  a  fever  because  a  man  from  Up 
Country  has  expressed  his  intention  of  taking  us  by 
storm.  I  'm  going  to  the  Station  to  try  and  find  him 
presently.  It  sounds  rather  cool,  but  the  poor  man 
naturally  expects  to  find  the  hospitality  he  cast  upon 
the  waters  returned  to  him  after  many  days  I  He  little 
knows  his  sometime  guest !  " 

"  Cunningham  stayed  there  ?  " 

"  Yes.     We  must  return  it." 

"  Is  he  much  of  an  outsider?  " 

"Oh,  no.  I  don't  think  so.  He  has  been  near 
Johannesburg  for  some  time.  That  sounds  rather  awful, 
but  I  daresay  he  is  inoffensive  enough.  Anyhow,  I 
sha'n  't  put  myself  out  about  it." 

"  I  '11  come  and  help  you  entertain  him," 


196  The  Story  of  Eden 

"Will  you?  You  are  a  dear,  True  !  "  Her  hand 
fell  lightly  on  his  shoulder.  True  sat  very  square 
under  the  slight  pressure,  as  steady  and  utterly  oblivi- 
ous of  himself  as  he  would  have  been  under  fire.  They 
had  grown  intimate  friends  during  the  past  twelve 
months,  —  a  friendship  amply  typified  by  the  fact  that 
as  Margery  laid  her  hand  on  his  shoulder,  she  did  not 
happen  to  look  at  him.  She  was,  indeed,  thinking 
more  of  the  coming  guest  than  of  Truman.  It  is  pos- 
sible that  he  knew  this,  but  he  did  not  speak  for  a 
minute. 

"  I  shall  have  to  take  him  about  with  me,"  said 
Madge,  referring  to  Mr.  Crofton.  "  I  hope  he  won't 
be  very  dreadful !  I  won't  take  him  to  Mount  Villiers 
on  Thursday  until  I  feel  sure  of  him,  Mrs.  Cromo 
Dame  might  say  things.  The  Hearne  girls  are  charit- 
able, he  shall  go  there  first." 

"Are  you  going  to  Mrs.  Cromo  Dame's?"  said 
True.  "  You  have  only  visited  at  Mount  Villiers  lately, 
have  you?" 

"  Within  the  last  three  months  —  since  she  went  into 
society  again.  She  called  on  me,  and  I  got  to  know 
her  better.  Do  you  know,  I  quite  like  her  !  She  is  so 
clever  and  amusing.  I  find  her  much  more  entertain- 
ing than  most  of  the  people  about  here." 

"  I  don't  think  she 's  a  bad  sort.  I  never  did." 
The  quiet  neat  sentences  dropped  out  of  True's  mouth 
and  hardly  expressed  anything.  "  She  is  going  about 
rather  soon,  isn't  she.  I  hardly  realised  what  she 
looked  like  as  a  widow,  before  I  met  her  at  the 
Drysdales  ! " 

"  Oh,  Cromo  Dame  has  been  dead  over  twelve 
months,  True  !  I  don't  see  why  she  should  retire  from 
the  world  entirely,  because  her  husband  died  of  that 
sudden,  terrible  illness,  poor  man  !  She  must  have  had 
a  hard  time  of  it  too,  perpetually  sick-nursing  as  she 
was  at  the  last." 


The  Story  of  Eden  197 

"  I  don't  think  I  should  care  for  her  much  as  a  sick 
nurse  !  I  was  rather  sorry  for  Crorno  Dame." 

"  She  would  be  all  right,  —  she  is  a  kind-hearted 
woman,  True.  Where  is  your  usual  charity  ?  If  Mrs. 
Cayley  had  only  been  more  like  her  —  " 

"I  dined  with  V.  C.  the  other  night,"  remarked 
True.  "  She  was  n't  there,  of  course." 

"  No  —  she  never  is  !  Poor  Mr.  Cayley  !  I  met 
him  at  the  Hearnes  a  few  weeks  ago,  and  really  talked 
to  him  for  the  first  time.  What  a  nice  voice  he  has  !  — 
Oh,  why  did  he  ever  marry  that  woman  !  " 

"It  was  propinquity,  Lady.  I  wanted  him  to  get 
away,  when  he  first  grew  so  intimate  with  her,  as  Miss 
Montfort  —  " 

"  I  wish  he  had  !  I  wonder  why  he  did  n't  ?  I 
remember  hearing  something  about  it  at  the  time  —  " 

Madge  stopped  in  her  turn.  She  had  met  them  the 
day  she  went  to  Hout's  Bay,  and  spoken  of  it  to  Vibart. 
No  connection  between  Vibart's  satisfied  acceptance  of 
her  statements,  and  Cayley's  marriage,  occurred  to  her 
mind,  but  the  remembrance  was  not  a  pleasant  one. 

"You  have  never  seen  much  of  V.  C.,  have  you?" 
True  said  gently. 

"  No.  And  now  I  do,  I  like  him  very  much  !  I 
spent  the  evening  at  the  Hearnes  with  him  and  Major 
Yeats  (in  default  of  you,  of  course,  True),  and  I  felt  much 
invigorated.  Last  year,  somehow,  I  never  talked  to  any 
one  but  Mr.  Forrester  and  Teddy  Barton  and  all  that  set. 
Is  n't  it  funny  how  one  gets  periods  of  people  !  " 

"  Pete  has  been  away,  you  see.  His  leave  is  but  a 
thing  of  yesterday.  You  '11  take  him  on  again  —  per- 
haps? But  I  like  Cayley.  He  has  moods,  you  know, 
but  he  's  all  right  in  between." 

"  I  wish  his  wife  were  all  right  at  any  time  !  She  is 
a  most  extraordinary  woman  !  One  cartf  know  her. 
True,  —  does  she  really  drink  ?  " 

"  I  think  —  she  is  n't  very  strong  —  and  it 's  a  hot 
climate,  Lady  1 " 


198  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  I  see.  How  we  do  bind  our  sins  on  the  back  of 
the  climate  !  "  Madge  gave  a  merry  cold  little  laugh. 
She  had  made  the  climate  an  excuse  once,  also. 
"  Anyhow  I  'm  sorry  he  married  her !  "  she  said. 
"  What  a  lot  of  things  have  happened  in  the  last  twelve 
months,  have  n't  they  — !  Mr.  Cayley's  marriage,  Cromo 
Dame's  death,  and  Mr.  Forrester's  leave  (only  he  is 
back  again,  so  that  does  n't  count  any  more) ,  and  the 
Dodds  have  gone  Home,  and  Mr.  Livingston.  I  still 
miss  Mr.  Livingston  somehow.  He  seemed  such  a 
character  of  the  neighbourhood.  He  was  amongst  my 
first  impressions,  and  I  think  he  will  be  one  of  my  last, 
even  though  he  should  n't  come  back." 

"  He  generally  returns  after  a  while,  they  say.  He 
was  an  odd  old  fellow,  was  n't  he  !  Sometimes  he 
looked  about  sixteen,  and  sometimes  six  hundred." 

"  He  once  told  me  that  he  thought  he  was  sixty-two, 
but  occasionally  Nature  got  mixed  and  reversed  the 
figures.  I  am  sure  he  seemed  more  like  twenty-six.  I 
do  miss  him  —  but  I  miss  Starling  still  more  !  " 

"  I  had  a  letter  this  mail !  "  said  True,  smiling. 

"  Did  you  ?  What  did  she  say  ?  When  are  they 
coming  out  ?  Do  sit  up  and  talk,  True  1  I  don't  see 
why  Starling  wrote  to  you,  and  not  to  me  !  " 

"  Perhaps  she  addressed  it  wrong  !  "  said  True,  inno- 
cently. He  did  not  sit  up  as  directed;  indeed  he 
leaned  his  brown  head  back  against  Madge's  knee,  and 
stared  with  all  his  big  eyes  into  the  distant,  speckless 
heavens.  "  She  says  they  will  be  back  next  month  — 
she  thinks." 

"  I  am  glad  !  Ar'  n't  you  ?  I  've  missed  Starling  fear- 
fully. When  I  was  at  the  Redmaynes  the  other  night, 
I  kept  on  looking  about  and  expecting  to  see  her  in 
that  blue  dress  with  the  beads  !  Do  you  remember?  " 

"I  liked  that  dress,"  said  True,  thoughtfully. 
"  The  beads  went  all  round  at  the  back  of  the  bodice, 
you  know,  and  when  she  leaned  back  against  a  hard 


The  Story  of  Eden  199 

chair  it  made  them  come  off  sometimes.  I  used  to  try 
and  save  them  !  " 

"  True  !  "  Madge  dimpled  with  laughter.  "  How 
can  you  !  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself !  — 
and  I  'm  sure  Starling  would  n't  let  you.  Dear  old  Star  ! 
I  believe  you  Ve  missed  her  as  much  as  any  one." 

The  smile  died  out  of  True's  eyes.  Then  came  back 
from  the  sky  and  fixed  themselves  on  a  glint  of  blue 
above  his  head,  between  two  lines  of  lashes.  "  Yes,  I 
missed  her,"  he  said.  "  I  was  very  lonely  indeed  at 
first  —  until  you  took  me  up  !  " 

The  two  slits  of  blue  widened  a  little  with  a  compre- 
hensive surprise.  "  Oh,  he  wants  to  flirt !  "  thought 
Madge,  amused.  "  Well,  I  don't  mind.  It 's  a  sunny 
afternoon,  and  the  climate  shall  answer  for  it." 

"  And  I  suppose  when  Starling  comes  back  it  will  be 
my  turn  to  feel  neglected  !  "  she  said  with  a  little  sigh, 
and  a  smile  that  trembled  round  her  lips  and  threat- 
ened dimples.  "  Um  — ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  Lady  !  " 

"  Oh,  but  yes,  True  !  Now  you  know  —  "  Instead 
of  finishing  her  sentence  she  leaned  forward  and 
arranged  a  little  spray  of  heath  in  his  buttonhole.  True 
turned  his  head  swiftly  and  his  moustache  brushed 
against  the  confiding  little  hand,  —  no  doubt  to  Madge's 
very  great  surprise. 

"  True,  you  really  should  n't !  "  she  said.  "  I  'm  not 
the  Queen !  The  next  time  the  band  plays  the 
National  Anthem  I  shall  think  it  must  be  for  me." 

"  I  '11  remind  you  ! " 

Margery  laughed  again,  her  amusement  a  little  quick- 
ened with  excitement,  and  at  the  same  moment  a  clock 
somewhere  in  the  house  struck  four,  the  notes  sounding 
through  her  laughter. 

"  Good  gracious  !  I  must  go  and  look  after  this 
Crofton  man,"  she  said  rising  hastily.  "  How  dread- 
fully idle  you  have  made  me  1  I  suppose  it  will  get 


200  The  Story  of  Eden 

chilly  later,  so  I  must  wrap  up,  but  it  does  seem 
ridiculous  to  wear  furs  with  such  sunshine." 

"  The  summer  is  holding  out  better  this  year,"  said 
True,  rising  also.  "  Last  June  the  rains  began.  Do 
you  remember  the  day  the  Tracker  went?  That  was 
the  first  of  them." 

"  Why  do  you  call  Major  Vibart  the  Tracker?  "  said 
Margery,  carelessly,  without  further  answer.  She  picked 
up  her  secreted  book  and  went  into  the  house;  a 
momentary  shadow  from  the  rain-sodden  day  he  had 
referred  to,  seemed  to  have  fallen  over  her  face.  It 
flashed  back  on  her  memory  as  vividly  as  if  it  had  been 
yesterday, — the  soughing  of  the  fir-tree  tops,  and  the 
level  grey  skies,  the  deluge  of  rain  blotting  out  the 
mountains,  and  Vibart's  face  and  voice.  .  .  . 

"  I  am  coming  to  help  entertain  ! "  True's  voice 
followed  her  into  the  house  as  she  disappeared. 

"  All  right !  "  she  called  back,  hardly  attending,  and 
ran  upstairs  to  her  bedroom  to  dress. 

It  had  been  a  warm  day,  but  as  the  sunlight  went, 
the  chill  of  the  winter  weather  made  itself  felt.  Madge 
drove  swiftly  along  the  red  roads,  through  the  aisles  of 
fir-trees,  that  had  seemed  so  strange  and  new  to  her  at 
first,  and  were  now  so  equally  familiar  that  they  formed 
the  background  to  any  scene  which  might  depict  itself 
in  her  mind.  The  wind  blew  cold  and  keen  across  the 
bright  clear  land,  and  Madge  shivered  a  little  in  her 
furs  as  she  sat  outside  the  Station  in  the  cart.  "  It  was 
rather  mad  of  me  to  come!  "  she  thought.  "  I  have  n't 
even  an  idea  what  train  he  will  take.  I  will  only  wait 
for  the  next,  and  then  go  home  and  leave  him  to  find 
his  way  as  best  he  can.  There  's  Mrs.  Redmayne !  " 
She  nodded  to  a  handsome  woman  who  came  out  of 
the  Station,  and  Mrs.  Redmayne  stopped  to  speak 
to  her. 

"  Have  you  come  to  meet  your  brother,  Miss  Cun- 
ningham?" she  said.  "I  saw  him  in  town."  She 


The  Story  of  Eden  201 

stopped  there,  but  to  herself  she  added,  "  I  wonder  if 
she  knows?  I  don't  like  the  woman,  but  then  I  don't 
like  Anthony  Cunningham.  Perhaps  he  means  nothing. 
I  won't  tell  this  little  girl  he  was  with  any  one." 

"  No  !  "  laughed  Madge.  "  I  did  n't  even  know  he 
had  gone  in.  I  expect  he  will  come  out  by  tram.  I 
am  here  on  rather  a  fruitless  quest,  I  'm  afraid  —  I  've 
come  to  meet  a  man  I  've  never  seen,  and  don't  even 
know  what  train  he  will  come  by !  Is  n't  that  irre- 
sponsible?" 

"  We  are  all  irresponsible,"  returned  Mrs.  Redmayne, 
with  a  shrug  of  her  shapely  shoulders.  "  But  I  am 
sorry  for  you  waiting  about  in  this  wind.  Oh,  Miss 
Cunningham,  Mr.  Tullock  has  asked  me  to  luncheon 
on  the  Skate  next  Wednesday,  and  suggested  my  bring- 
ing you.  It  is  rather  a  long  journey  to  Simon's  Town. 
Would  you  care  to  come  ?  " 

"  I  should  immensely  —  but  what  am  I  to  do  with 
this  man  ?  He  is  going  to  stay  with  us,  and  I  don't 
know  in  the  least  if  he  is  possible." 

"  Never  mind,  bring  him  too.  It  will  be  a  good  way  of 
entertaining  him.  If  he  proves  too  abominable,  let's  hope 
the  motion  of  the  boat  will  make  him  ill,  —  or  we  might 
contrive  a  little  accident  and  drop  him  overboard  ! " 

They  parted  laughing.  Mrs.  Redmayne  hailed  a 
Cape  cart  and  was  driven  away  to  call  upon  her 
acquaintance  in  Wynberg,  —  she  lived  at  Rondesbosch, 
—  and  Margery  turned  her  attention  to  the  other  pas- 
sengers who  had  come  by  the  same  train. 

"  Moderately  tall  —  very  dark  —  with  a  beard  !  "  she 
repeated  mechanically.  "  That  man  would  do,  but  he 
is  clean-shaven.  Can  he  have  cast  his  beard  away  from 
him  with  other  habits  of  the  wilds  ?  " 

The  man  in  question  was  standing  on  the  Station 
steps,  looking  thoughtfully  at  the  stream  of  faces  pass- 
ing him.  His  glance  went  beyond  them  and  encoun- 
tered Madge's  after  a  minute,  and  they  regarded  each 


202  The  Story  of  Eden 

other  doubtfully.  Then  the  stranger  had  an  inspiration. 
He  turned  to  a  porter  and  asked  in  particularly  distinct 
tones  if  he  could  tell  him  the  way  to  Vine  Lodge,  and 
Margery  jumped  out  of  the  cart  in  a  hurry. 

"  I  can  !  "  she  said  hastily.  "  I  live  there.  Are  you 
Mr.  Crofton?" 

"  Yes  !  " 

"  I  am  Margery  Cunningham.  I  am  sorry  Anthony 
had  to  go  into  Cape  Town,  but  he  sent  me  to  meet 
you  in  his  place."  (What  should  we  do  without  our 
sisters  ?  )  "  What  a  fortunate  thing  you  asked  for  our 
house  !  I  had  just  begun  to  think  how  wild  it  was  of 
me  to  dream  of  discovering  any  one  I  had  never  seen 
before  !  " 

"I  really  did  it  in  the  faint  hope  that  you  might 
know  Professor  Cunningham  and  direct  me,"  said 
Crofton,  candidly.  "  I  thought  you  looked  at  me  as  if 
you  were  expecting  somebody  !  " 

"  I  think  we  were  both  very  clever !  Is  that  your 
luggage  ?  I  am  afraid  we  must  have  a  cart  to  bring  it 
up.  I  can't  offer  to  put  it  behind.  Robert,  call  that 
cart,  please,  and  arrange  about  Mr.  Crofton's  luggage 
coming  up.  Now,  Mr.  Crofton,  come  along  !  " 

She  made  room  for  him  in  the  place  Robert  had 
vacated,  and  three  minutes  later  they  were  driving 
homewards  triumphantly,  Madge  chattering  in  her  in- 
evitably sociable  way,  and  Crofton  listening.  He  was 
rather  untalkative  on  the  whole ;  he  seemed  to  have 
brought  the  great  silences  of  the  lonely  veld,  where  he 
had  lived,  down  to  the  coast  with  him,  through  all  the 
stir  of  Johannesburg  life  which  he  had  experienced  in 
the  interval.  Madge  talked  bravely  on  the  homeward 
way,  but  the  personality  beside  her  began  to  touch  her 
with  something  of  the  same  effect  that  the  African 
night  had  done  at  Hout's  Bay,  and  once  or  twice  since. 
The  overmastering  sense  of  a  great  stillness  seemed  to 
be  forcing  its  influence  upon  her. 


The  Story  of  Eden  203 

"  It  will  be  perfectly  awful  to  live  in  the  house  with 
that ! "  she  thought,  in  dismay.  "  It  is  like  having  the 
mountains  indoors.  I  shall  certainly  keep  True  up  to 
his  promise  of  helping  to  entertain." 

"  I  am  afraid  my  taking  you  by  storm  in  this  way 
was  rather  inconsiderate,"  said  Crofton,  at  this  moment. 
"  I  only  decided  to  come  down  to  the  Western  Pro- 
vince at  a  minute's  notice,  and  when  I  wrote  to  the 
Professor  of  course  I  thought  I  was  coming  to  a  bach- 
elor establishment.  I  hope  I  have  n't  put  you  out,  Mrs. 
Cunningham  !  " 

"  You  are  coming  to  a  bachelor  establishment !  " 
remarked  Madge,  dryly.  "  Professor  Cunningham  is 
my  brother  —  not  my  husband  !  " 

"  Oh  !  " 

Then  they  stole  a  covert  glance  at  each  other,  and 
discovered  that  they  were  both  laughing.  Also,  very 
naturally,  Crofton  looked  at  Margery  afresh  with  a 
different  interest.  The  fact  that  her  state  was  not  the 
one  he  had  assigned  her,  made  her  a  new  person  in  his 
eyes.  He  had  to  begin  all  over  again  and  destroy  his 
first  ten  minutes'  impressions  with  regard  to  her. 

"  You  are  so  very  unlike  your  brother  that  I  nat- 
urally concluded  he  had  married,"  he  said  frankly. 
"  He  must  be  a  great  deal  older  than  you." 

"  Twenty  years  or  30.  A  mere  trifle,  from  an  entomo- 
logical point  of  view.  Sometimes  I  think  Anthony 
looks  upon  me  as  the  elder.  He  is  my  half-brother." 

Lansing  Crofton  pondered  on  these  things  while  he 
sat  at  dinner  that  night.  It  was  the  first  opportunity 
he  had  had  of  comparing  Anthony  Cunningham  and 
Margery,  for  the  Professor  only  appeared  with  the  fish, 
when  he  shook  hands  most  hospitably  with  his  guest, 
explaining  that  he  feared  he  was  a  bad  host,  his  pro- 
fession kept  him  a  perfect  slave,  but  he  could  trust  his 
sister  to  represent  him  far  more  satisfactorily  than  he 
could  do  it  himself.  The  serene  softness  of  Margery's 


204  The  Story  of  Eden 

face  never  altered  in  the  slightest  during  this  tirade  or 
Crofton's  equally  polite  acceptance  of  the  situation ; 
Anthony's  influence  upon  her  was  too  deep  for  the 
display  of  surface  feelings.  He  hammered  out  her 
illusions  and  beliefs  into  a  deep-seated  and  ingrained 
cynicism,  without  hardening  a  line  of  her  face  as  yet. 

"  I  shall  be  perfectly  satisfied  if  Miss  Cunningham 
will  show  me  something  of  the  neighbourhood,"  Crofton 
said  merely.  "  I  always  had  a  fancy  for  buying  a  house 
near  Cape  Town,  and  spending  six  months  of  the  year 
here  at  least.  I  have  a  lot  of  business  to  do  here- 
abouts ;  I  hope  you  won't  think  me  rude  if  I  am  out  a 
good  deal." 

"  Poor  man  !  "  thought  Margery.  "  I  wonder  if  he 
sees  through  Anthony  !  He  is  inventing  business  to  be 
out  of  my  way." 

The  sting  of  her  brother's  short-comings  made  her 
doubly  gracious ;  the  Professor  did  not  alter  his  usual 
routine  for  so  insignificant  a  guest,  and  retired  to  his 
own  sanctum,  where  it  was  high  treason  to  intrude 
upon  his  slumbers.  Margery  took  Crofton  into  the 
drawing-room,  but  asked  if  he  would  like  a  cigarette 
on  the  stoep. 

"  I  can't  offer  to  smoke  with  you,"  she  said ;  "  but  I 
will  come  and  sit  out  there,  if  you  like." 

"  I  am  afraid  it  would  be  too  cold  for  you.  It  is  a 
chilly  night.  I  will  smoke  later,  thanks.  Do  you 
sing?" 

"Yes  —  can  you?" 

"  I  can." 

"  Come,  that 's  decided.  Look  through  that  music 
and  see  if  I  have  anything  you  know.  How  do  you 
like  this  ?  " 

By  some  freak  for  which  she  could  never  account, 
she  began  to  sing  "  Lovelace." 

"  Why  do  you  come  to-night,  to-night  ? 
So  many  miles  of  wind  and  rain  I  —  " 


The  Story  of  Eden  205 

and  before  she  had  got  half-way  through  the  second 
verse  she  wished  she  had  not  begun  it.  A  sense  of 
distaste  was  upon  her;  it  had  been  a  favourite  of 
Vibart's,  and  she  had  sung  it  the  morning  after.  .  .  . 
All  the  memories  it  brought  up  were  repulsive  to  her 
now  that  she  had  outgrown  the  feeling  which  had  en- 
shrined them.  For  the  first  time  the  vulgarity  of  the 
whole  episode  was  apparent  to  her  mind.  She  felt  that 
the  thing  which  it  had  seemed  natural  and  excusable 
to  do,  was  hardly  to  be  tolerated.  This  man,  this 
stranger,  leaning  over  the  piano  and  watching  her  with 
intent  eyes,  what  would  he  think  of  her  if  he  could 
know?  It  was  not  so  much  the  fact  of  her  lapse  from 
virtue  itself  that  horrified  her  at  the  minute ;  had  she 
been  carried  away  once  by  a  gust  of  passion,  she  would 
have  looked  upon  it  as  a  terrible  thing,  but  with  some- 
thing of  the  dignity  of  a  crime.  But  the  details  which 
had  led  up  to  it,  continued  with  it,  and  were  always 
connected  in  her  memory  with  it,  were  an  eternal 
degradation.  They  were  commonplace,  and  yet  they 
shocked  her  to  remember.  Vibart's  love  had  been  of 
as  coarse  a  quality  as  his  nature ;  his  wooing  had  been 
as  broadly  sensual  as  his  mind,  and  he  had  taken  ad- 
vantage of  Margery's  inexperience  to  make  reticence 
no  part  of  their  intercourse.  She  felt,  under  the  speech- 
less scrutiny  of  Crofton's  gaze,  that  her  past  experiences 
had  had  an  atmosphere  of  indecency.  But  the  spur  of 
her  discomfort  made  her  sing  none  the  worse  for  that. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said  as  she  finished.  "  Do  you 
ever  try  to  follow  out  the  story  of  a  song?" 

"Very  often,"  she  answered  with  the  pleasurable 
thrill  which  comes  of  unexpected  sympathy.  "  Why?  " 

"  I  was  only  wondering  if  she  gave  in,  or  if  she  were 
too  much  afraid." 

"  No,  —  I  think  she  gave  in.  You  see  she  liked  him 
all  the  better  for  risking  the  danger.  That  is  why  she 
referred  to  it !  " 


206  The  Story  of  Eden 

"And  he  evidently  grasped  the  fact  that  it  would 
prove  an  attraction  — 

" '  Oh,  but  I  come  with  much  delight, 
All  things  I  love  are  dangerous  I ' 

Do  you  think  she  was  married  ?  " 

The  question  gave  Margery  some  surprise.  "  I  don't 
know  —  I  had  n't  thought,"  she  said.  "  Yes,  I  suppose 
she  was." 

An  impulse  seized  her  to  ask  what  he  thought  him- 
self, —  if  the  inmorality  of  the  suggestion  throughout 
seemed  to  him  worse  in  the  supposititious  case  of  the 
woman  being  married ;  but  her  own  sense  of  guilt 
held  her  tongue-tied.  She  dared  not  attack  such  a 
subject,  for  she  had  a  nervous  dread  of  seeming  con- 
versant with  it.  She  gave  a  little  gasp,  and  gathered 
breath  to  ask  him  to  sing  in  his  turn.  In  the  pause 
before  she  spoke,  the  door  opened  to  admit  the  servant 
who  announced  Captain  Truman. 

True  was  in  uniform,  having  come  straight  down 
from  Mess.  The  bravery  of  his  red  and  gold,  and  the 
smile  in  his  eyes,  seemed  equally  effective  in  dispersing 
the  seriousness  of  the  moment  before  his  entrance. 
Margery  went  to  meet  him,  and  introduced  him  to 
Crofton,  whose  face  expressed  no  surprise  at  such  an 
apparition,  though  he  merely  shook  hands  without  a 
word.  True's  appearance  had  been  quite  as  unex- 
pected to  Margery  as  to  Crofton,  for  his  final  speech 
to  her,  that  he  was  coming  to  help  entertain,  had  fallen 
on  dulled  ears.  At  any  rate  she  had  not  looked  for 
him  so  promptly. 

But  the  atmosphere  of  the  room  was  immediately 
changed,  and  under  the  spell  of  True's  sunny  friendli- 
ness even  Crofton  became  more  sociable.  At  the  same 
time,  he  appeared  further  off  from  her,  Madge  thought ; 
they  had  dropped  from  the  momentary  intimacy  into 
mere  distant  acquaintance,  or  in  some  way  True's 


The  Story  of  Eden  207 

better  established  position  with  her  seemed  to  have 
glided  between  them.  True  was  as  good  as  his  word, 
and  did  help  to  entertain,  skilfully  keeping  up  the  ball 
of  conversation,  choosing  Madge's  songs  for  her  to 
sing,  and  drawing  Crofton  out  over  the  news  from 
Johannesburg.  Crofton  became  comparatively  fluent 
in  talking  to  another  man ;  but  when  Madge  and  True 
were  talking,  he  relapsed  into  silence  and  watched 
them.  They  had  many  inevitable  references  he  could 
not  understand,  and  interests  of  which  he  knew  nothing. 
"  Sing  this,  Lady !  "  True  said,  putting  a  song  before 
her,  and  Madge  sang,  with  a  mischievous  glance  at  him 
at  certain  words,  while  he  leaned  his  head  against  the 
piano  as  he  sat  by  her  side,  in  much  the  same  attitude 
that  he  had  taken  in  the  afternoon,  and  gazed  at  her 
devotedly. 

"Here  in  happy  Arcady 
Love  is  lord  of  you  and  me  I 
Sings  the  Starling, 
'Kiss  thy  darling  1 ' 
While  the  dove  doth  bid  us  love  I  " 

sang  Madge,  accentuating  the  third  line. 

"  Sings  the  Starling, 
'  Kiss  thy  darling  1 '  " 

It  was  very  pretty  to  watch,  and  Crofton  turned  over 
the  music  and  watched  it.  When  it  came  to  his  turn, 
he  surprised  them,  for  his  voice  was  unusual  for  an 
amateur ;  but  he  would  only  sing  one  song,  and  when 
Truman  suggested  a  cigarette  on  the  stoep,  he  assented 
at  once.  They  went  out  together  and  walked  up  and 
down,  smoking  and  talking  in  a  desultory  fashion. 
Madge  threw  open  the  window,  and  went  on  playing 
and  singing  to  herself.  She  could  hear  their  feet 
pacing  past,  or  a  broken  sentence,  and  they  could  hear 
snatches  of  her  songs.  Once  she  caught  something 
about  the  dynamite  monopoly,  and  smiled  to  herself  as 
she  flung  them  back  a  couplet. 


2o8  The  Story  of  Eden 


"  Fortune  little  matters 
If  love  goes  by  !  " 

"  I  must  be  going,  Lady  !  "  True  said  a  little  later. 
He  came  up  to  the  window  and  shook  hands,  but  would 
not  come  in  again.  "  The  Professor  is  waking  up,"  he 
said,  "  and  wants  to  go  to  bed.  And  Crofton  is  tired. 
I've  got  my  cap  and  coat  all  right,  don't  come  out, 
it's  cold." 

"  Good-night,  True.  I  'm  so  glad  to  have  seen 
you  !  "  said  Margery,  gaily.  The  afternoon  returned  to 
her  mind,  and  an  imp  of  mischief  prompted  her  to 
return  the  pressure  of  the  hand  holding  hers. 

"  I  suppose  —  you  did  n't  play  God  save  the  Queen, 
did  you?" 

"  No,  I  did  n't  know  you  were  going,  so  I  did  not 
regard  the  performance  as  finished." 

"Will  you  play  it  now,  perhaps?  " 

"No,  I  won't !  "  said  Margery,  with  a  flash  of  memory 
and  comprehension.  "  Good-night,  True.  Don't  be 
ridiculous !  " 

Crofton  was  standing  outside  the  window  also  in  the 
darkness,  with  the  end  of  his  cigarette  between  his 
fingers.  He  looked  on. 

"  I  wonder  if  I  am  going  to  get  on  with  Mr.  Crof- 
ton," thought  Margery,  as  she  fell  asleep  that  night. 
"  He  is  very  unobtrusive,  anyway.  I  wonder  what  he 
meant  about  that  song.  It  seems  to  me  rather  an  ex- 
traordinary thing  to  have  said.  Perhaps  I  ought  n't  to 
have  sung  it,  —  it  never  occurred  to  me  to  analyse  the 
words  before.  But  he  must  evidently  have  something 
in  him,  besides  silence,  or  he  would  n't  have  thought 
of  it."  A  year  ago  she  would  have  said,  "  I  wonder 
what  he  thinks  of  me  !  "  but  she  had  reached  a  stage 
when  her  thoughts  of  other  people  seemed  to  her  of  at 
least  as  much  importance  as  theirs  of  her. 


CHAPTER  XI 

**  We  had  a  message  long  ago 
That  like  a  river  peace  should  flow, 
And  Eden  bloom  again  below. 

We  heard,  and  we  began  to  wait; 
Full  soon  that  message  men  forgot. 
Yet  waiting  is  their  destined  lot, 
And  waiting  for  they  knew  not  what, 

They  strive  with  yearnings  passionate? 

THE  Drysdales  were,  and  always  had  been,  unosten- 
tatiously domestic.  They  took  their  share  in  the 
social  life  round  them,  but  it  formed  the  sauce  to  their 
dinner  rather  than  the  dinner  itself.  Society  made 
existence  pleasanter,  but  they  could  have  done  without 
it.  They  were  completely  bound  up  in  their  three 
boys ;  but  except  to  those  people  who  were  very  inti- 
mate at  the  house,  they  did  not  discourse  on  the  sub- 
ject, nor  did  they  repeat  nursery  sayings  and  doings, 
save  to  each  other.  For  this  alone  they  should  have 
been  loved  and  cherished. 

"  But  the  fact  is,"  Clarice  Drysdale  said  dryly,  "  that 
it  is  very  few  people  whom  we  consider  intelligent 
enough  to  appreciate  the  Boys,  and  the  Baby  is  too 
sacred  a  subject  to  be  bandied  about  in  public.  We 
are  quite  as  infatuated  about  our  progeny  as  any  other 
self-centred  couple ;  but  the  priceless  armour  of  our 
conceit  makes  a  secret  of  it." 

Madge  Cunningham  was  one  of  the  few  who  had 
seen  Mrs.  Drysdale  really  "  at  home "  among  her 
children,  and  been  a  breathless  witness  of  Ossy  trans- 
formed from  an  impenetrable  man  of  the  world  into  a 
mere  father  of  a  family.  He  held  a  position  in  the 
Houses  of  Assembly  which  kept  him  in  Cape  Town  the 


2io  The  Story  of  Eden 

greater  portion  of  most  days ;  but  when  he  came  out  to 
Wynberg,  he  was  more  interested  in  Eric  and  Jan's 
miraculous  escapes  and  developing  eccentricities,  than 
in  any  increase  of  the  Bond  party,  or  flank  movement 
of  the  Rhodesians.  Margery  had  never  quite  gauged 
Oswald  Drysdale,  but  she  liked  to  hear  him  talk  with  a 
liking  that  increased  as  her  knowledge  of  that  state 
of  Colonisation  in  which  she  found  herself  increased 
also. 

She  dropped  in  on  Mrs.  Drysdale  in  Wynbergian 
fashion  some  days  after  Crofton's  arrival,  and  sat  down 
to  talk.  It  was  half-past  eleven  in  the  morning,  and 
Mrs.  Drysdale  was  combining  the  business  of  a  large 
correspondence  with  a  maternal  guard  over  the  respect- 
able baby,  who  had  grown  large  enough  to  explore  the 
edible  qualities  of  penwipers.  She  rang  for  his  nurse 
when  Madge  appeared,  and  had  him  carried  away,  a 
fat  white  bundle  of  smiles  and  sugar  candy,  which 
latter  he  was  sucking. 

"Sit  down,  Madge,  and  tell  me  where  you  have 
been,"  she  said.  "  I  have'n't  seen  you  for  days.  Oh 
wait  a  moment  —  I  must  just  address  this  to  the 
Mowbray  boy.  I  want  him  to  come  to  dinner  and  eat 
grouse.  Major  Yeats  is  on  leave  at  Beaufost  West,  and 
has  perfectly  deluged  me  with  game.  It  won't  keep 
two  days,  while  the  weather  is  still  warm." 

"  Is  n't  Mr.  Mowbray  the  boy  who  has  come  out  to 
the  Duke's?" 

"  Yes,  changed  from  the  first  Battalion.  His  sister 
is  one  of  my  oldest  friends,  and  I  promised  to  look 
after  him  and  see  that  he  had  a  good  time,  and  now 
the  minute  he  arrives  the  Duke's  go  under  canvas  out 
near  Simon's  Town.  Is  n't  it  a  pity  !  " 

"  Do  they  ?  True  never  told  me.  I  am  sorry.  I 
shall  miss  them  when  they  are  further  off.  Who  comes 
here?" 

"  This  Regiment  that  is  just  out,  —  the  Rutlandshires. 


The  Story  of  Eden  211 

I  saw  some  of  them  at  the  theatre  the  other  night. 
Not  a  decent  coat  among  them,  —  a  worse  set  of 
screws  I  never  beheld." 

"  What  a  pity  !  The  Duke's  were  n't  smart,  but  they 
did  look  all  right  in  uniform.  True  came  in  the  other 
night,  and  I  thought  what  a  dear  little  thing  he 
looked." 

"  True  is  particular.  They  say  the  regimental  tailor 
groans  over  the  fit  of  his  waistcoats.  Will  you  come 
and  meet  the  Mowbray  boy?" 

"  I  'm  sorry,  but  I  can't.  We  've  got  a  man  a-staying 
with  us  from  Up  Country.  At  least  he  lives  near 
Johannesburg  now,  but  he  was  in  Rhodesia  when 
Anthony  made  his  acquaintance." 

"  Oh,  I  see  !  Did  the  Professor  make  use  of  him  to 
study  beetles  in  the  veld?  " 

"  Exactly !  —  so  now  he  makes  use  of  us  to  study 
civilisation  in  the  Colony.  Anthony  won't  be  disturbed 
of  course,  so  I  have  had  to  take  him  about." 

"  H'm  !  —  what  is  he  like  ?     Possible  ?  " 

"  I  have  hardly  made  up  my  mind.  He  improves 
on  acquaintance.  At  first  he  was  so  quiet  that  he  op- 
pressed me,  but  after  he  shook  down  a  little,  we  got 
on  better.  I  can't  say  I  like  him  very  much,  but  we  are 
perfectly  friendly,  and  he  is  very  little  trouble.  He 
has  gone  to  Newlands  to-day  to  look  at  a  house.  I 
gave  him  the  cart  and  my  blessing,  but  did  not  feel 
bound  to  accompany  him." 

"  Does  he  mean  to  settle  here  ?  " 

"  He  says  so.  I  can't  quite  make  out  if  he  is  rich ; 
but  he  seems  to  be  well  enough  off  to  have  given  up 
business." 

"  He  is  not  very  young  then  ?  The  English  supposi- 
tion that  all  our  millionaires  are  early  successes  has 
always  struck  me  with  wonder.  If  you  think  of  it,  the 
men  who  have  made  fortunes  are  all  grey  and  stout 
and  have  obviously  had  to  barter  youth  for  wealth.  You 


212  The  Story  of  Eden 

can't  succeed  in  the  Colony  without  working  harder 
for  it  than  at  Home,  —  and  you  want  a  certain  class  of 
brains  too  ! " 

"  And  an  iron  constitution  and  no  nerves  !  But  Mr. 
Crofton  is  not  by  any  means  elderly.  I  should  think 
he  was  about  five  and  thirty." 

"  Then,  my  dear  Madge,  he  is  not  a  very  rich  man. 
But  he  may  be  comfortably  off." 

"  Yes,  I  think  that  is  about  it.  He  has  an  idea  of 
going  in  for  a  wine  farm  at  Constantia." 

"  Not  a  bad  idea,  if  he  knows  anything  about  it. 
Anyhow  it  will  do  for  a  hobby,  as  you  say  he  has  re- 
tired from  business.  Absolute  idleness  for  an  energetic 
man  of  that  age  must  be  the  shortest  road  to  insanity. 
He  is  not  married?  " 

«  No  i  » 

"  Is  he  attracted  by  you  ?  " 

How  frank  women  can  be  to  each  other,  and  how 
infinitely  more  truthful  than  men  !  A  man,  asked  such 
a  question,  must  have  boasted,  with  or  without  reason. 
Margery  spoke  as  honestly  as  she  knew. 

"  Yes,  in  a  way  he  is.  But  he  seems  to  me  a  man  who 
likes  to  domineer,  and  I  think  I  only  attract  him  because 
he  finds  me  ready  to  meet  him  on  equal  ground.  Once  he 
had  mastered  me,  I  should  not  interest  him  anymore." 

"  I  know  the  sort  of  man.  Do  you  know,  Madge, 
you  have  altered  very  much  in  your  point  of  view? 
When  you  first  came  out  you  would  have  described  to 
me  what  the  man  was  like  personally,  and  what  he  had 
done  and  said  to  you,  simply  and  literally.  Now  you 
are  chiefly  interested  in  his  mental  attitude  and  his 
character." 

"  Perhaps  that  is  because  I  am  not  much  impressed 
with  him  physically,"  said  Margery,  laughing.  "  He  is 
a  middle-sized  man  with  very  dark  hair  and  a  sunburnt 
skin,  if  you  want  to  know.  He  is  clean-shaven  and 
has  beautiful  teeth.  What  I  like  best  about  him  is  the 


The  Story  of  Eden  213 

direct  way  he  looks  you  in  the  face,  with  a  very  steady 
gaze  —  " 

"  There  again  !  the  way  he  looks  !  But  what  colour 
are  his  eyes  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dear !  I  will  bring  him  to  see  you,  and  you 
shall  judge.  No,  let  me  see  !  —  they  are  something 
between  green  and  grey  and  hazel.  Curious  eyes,  now 
I  come  to  think  of  it,  and  very  uncommon  on  the 
whole.  He  sings  beautifully,  Clarice." 

"  Does  he  ?  And  you  sing  with  each  other  of  course, 
while  your  brother  sleeps, — what  is  that  man  thinking 
about !  I  have  had  occasion  to  remark  that  before 
with  regard  to  you  and  him.  Will  you  come  to  dinner 
and  meet  the  Mowbray  boy  and  bring  Mr.  Crofton?  " 

"  Yes,  I  should  like  to.  We  are  going  to  lunch  on 
the  Skate  on  Wednesday  with  Mrs.  Redmayne.  I  met 
her  at  the  Station  the  other  day." 

"  She  's  a  nice  woman.  Beau  Livingston  would  in- 
sist that  V.  C.  followed  her  too  obviously;  but  Beau 
talked  scandal  in  his  light  way  as  much  as  any  one. 
Cissie's  reign  was  a  good  one  for  V.  C.  compared  with 
the  present  state  of  things  !  " 

"  Poor  Mr.  Cayley  !    I  called  there  once,  Clarice." 

"Did  you  see  her?  " 

"No  —  Iheardtei*." 

"  Oh  !  —  she  is  rather  expressive  I  know." 

"  She  was  talking  at  the  cook.  Well,  no  one  knows 
better  than  I  do  how  one  would  like  to  stamp  on  a 
Kaffir  cook  at  times,  but  it  was  simply  sickening.  I 
wonder  where  she  learned  such  language." 

"  I  can't  think  how  she  managed  to  disguise  her 
weaknesses  before  she  married  him.  Mrs.  Cromo 
Dame  must  have  known  !  They  say  she  is  rarely  sober 
four  nights  of  the  week.  Think  what  a  home  that 
must  be  for  any  man  !  Mr.  Forrester  says  that  V.  C. 
tried  to  break  his  neck  at  the  last  gymkana." 

"  How  awful !     Do  you  know  I  never  saw  her  that 


214  The  Story  of  Eden 

day,  —  I  could  n't !  A  servant  came  to  me  and  said 
that  her  mistress  was  engaged,  but  would  see  me  if  I 
could  wait.  I  felt  sure  she  was  bracing  herself  up,  and 
would  come  in  smelling  of  spirits  and  face  powder,  and 
I  really  could  n't  bear  it.  I  had  only  called  for  Mr. 
Cayley's  sake,  so  I  said  I  had  an  engagement,  and 
rushed  away." 

Mrs.  Drysdale  was  silent.  The  same  weariness  and 
shadow  which  had  crossed  her  face  once  in  speaking  to 
Beau  Livingston  at  her  own  gate,  was  on  it  now.  He 
had  been  reminding  her  on  that  occasion  that  Madge 
was  happy  without  intelligence,  —  the  happiness  of 
mere  physical  enjoyment,  and  that  they  had  lost  the 
power ;  the  helplessness  of  humanity  against  the  destiny 
which  the  days  and  months  and  years  evolve,  was  the 
paramount  feeling  in  Clarice's  mind  on  both  occasions, 
and  gave  a  sudden  mysterious  twilight  effect  to  her 
face,  as  if  the  light  had  faded.  A  sense  of  personal 
impotence  always  brought  it  there ;  but  all  she  said  was, 
"  We  cannot  help  him." 

Knowing  that  her  own  guest  was  safe  for  some  hours, 
Margery  stayed  to  luncheon,  and  romped  with  the  boys 
afterwards.  The  performance  ended  with  the  ringing 
of  a  bell  which  sent  the  two  children  off,  helter-skelter, 
tea-wards,  and  Margery  returned  to  the  house  to  say 
good-bye. 

"  I  must  be  getting  back  now,"  she  said  regretfully. 
"Mr.  Crofton  will  be  home  any  time,  and  Anthony 
went  out  this  morning  without  telling  me  where  he  was 
going,  or  when  he  would  be  back." 

"  You  look  ten  years  younger  when  you  have  been 
playing  with  the  boys,"  Mrs.  Drysdale  said  approvingly. 
"  At  the  present  moment  you  are  about  eleven  !  It  is 
a  great  blessing  to  be  so  easily  and  heartily  amused  as 
you  are,  Madge." 

"  I  am  generally  amused  with  whatever  happens  to 
me.  I  think  it  is  because  I  am  a  very  unimaginative 


The  Story  of  Eden  215 

person,  and  live  every  moment  of  my  life  through 
exactly  as  it  comes.  What  day  do  we  dine  here  with 
the  Mowbray  boy?" 

"  Friday.  Please  bring  some  music,  and  ask  Mr. 
Crofton  if  he  will  sing  for  us."  She  kissed  the  girl, 
and  then  spoke  abruptly  in  a  different  tone,  "  Margery, 
when  your  brother  goes  out  all  day  like  this,  what  is 
he  doing?  Butterfly  hunting?" 

"  Good  gracious,  Clarice,  I  don't  know !  Anthony 
and  I  live  and  let  live.  We  never  interfere  with  each 
other.  He  made  me  understand  from  the  first  that  to 
ask  a  question  was  worse  than  putting  your  bare  hand 
on  a  prickly  pear.  And  I  have  gradually  gained  a  like 
liberty." 

"  Oh  !  well,  it  seems  to  me  an  equally  dangerous 
plan.  If  a  man  refuses  to  have  a  question  asked,  how- 
ever innocently,  I  am  forced  into  conclusions,  and  that 
is  a  pity.  I  would  rather  he  lied.  There  is  a  certain 
safeguard  in  having  to  evade  the  truth,  Madge.  No- 
body really  likes  lying." 

"  I  suppose  Anthony  is  like  all  other  men.  He  has 
his  own  life  —  I  certainly  do  not  wish  to  investigate 
it!" 

"  Oh,  I  did  not  mean  that !  There  is  no  escaping 
generalities.  I  was  wondering  if  there  were  not  a  par- 
ticular cause  for  his  absences?" 

"A  woman,  you  mean?  Very  likely.  It  really 
does  n't  concern  me.  He  is  old  enough  to  look  after 
himself,  and  not  to  get  into  an  entanglement." 

"  Run  away,  Madge.  Your  philosophy  is  beyond 
me,  —  God  keep  you,  my  child." 

She  looked  after  the  sunny  white  figure  with  an  un- 
translatable expression  in  her  eyes.  "  I  like  that  girl ;  I 
always  did,"  she  said.  "  She  still  represents  a  discov- 
ery to  me,  —  a  successful  discovery  socially,  but  one 
that  I  have  not  entirely  probed  myself.  How  she 
has  altered  !  She  has  twice  the  character  she  had  last 


2i6  The  Story  of  Eden 

year.  I  wonder  what  happened  to  her  with  regard  to 
Jack  Vibart?  How  people  talked  !  but  that,  of  course, 
she  did  not  know.  I  have  no  doubt  that  she  thinks 
that  no  one  suspected  any  intimacy  between  them. 
And  even  I  did  not  hear  it  all.  Polly  Harbord  tried  to 
tell  me  something  Clive  Forrester  had  said  one  d;iy, 
and  I  declined  to  hear.  I  almost  wish  I  had  now  ;  it 
might  be  useful  to  warn  her,  if  she  got  into  any  difficulty, 
and  the  story  cropped  up  again.  I  wonder  what  True 
knows  ?  " 

Madge  was  making  her  way,  meanwhile,  between  the 
blue  plumbago  hedges,  back  to  Vine  Lodge.  It  was 
only  five  minutes'  walk,  and  she  was  glad,  for  the  sun 
was  going  down  and  she  had  a  latent  fear  of  Kaffirs, 
even  along  those  familiar  roads.  It  is  a  characteristic 
of  civilisation  in  South  Africa,  that  savage  nature  is 
generally  to  be  found  on  the  other  side  of  the  hedge. 
A  rich  man's  carefully  cultivated  garden  will  be  bounded 
by  a  line  beyond  which  is  a  cheerful  prospect  of  un- 
cultivated land  with  the  appearance  of  raw  veld ;  a 
pretty  red  road,  open  and  harmless  in  the  morning 
sunlight,  will  change  suddenly,  at  the  rapid  descent  of 
darkness,  into  a  horribly  lonely  place,  with  battle,  mur- 
der, and  sudden  death,  —  or  worse,  —  lying  in  wait  in 
the  hundred  yards  or  so  between  one  friend's  house 
and  another's.  But  then,  the  houses  stand  well  away 
from  the  road,  in  their  own  grounds  as  a  rule,  and 
people  who  possess  any  nerves  are  haunted  by  a  dread 
that  a  call  for  help  would  be  lost  in  the  space  between. 
Robberies  do  take  place,  though  not  often ;  but  the 
white  women  have  two  bogies  that  they  shun,  —  the 
Kaffir  after  dark,  and  the  snake  which  glides  across  the 
soft,  red  earth  and  is  hardly  visible.  Madge  quickened 
her  pace,  instinctively,  though  her  brain  was  busy  with 
the  problem  of  Mrs.  Drysdale's  query  about  the  Pro- 
fessor. Turning  a  corner,  sharply,  she  almost  ran  up 
against  some  one  coming  along  by  the  hedge,  and  started 


The  Story  of  Eden  217 

back  with  a  little  cry.  As  he  lifted  his  cap,  she  recog- 
nised, with  relief,  that  he  was  a  white  man,  and  some 
one  she  knew.  It  was  V.  C. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Cayley,  would  you  mind  walking  to  my 
gate  with  me  ?  "  she  said,  with  a  gasp  and  a  little  laugh. 
"  I  stayed  rather  late  at  Mrs.  Drysdale's,  and  I  hate 
these  roads  after  dark.  It  is  only  two  minutes'  walk, 
—  am  I  taking  you  much  out  of  your  way?  " 

"  No,  I  am  entirely  at  your  service."  He  turned  and 
walked  with  her  at  once,  a  reassuring  figure  in  very 
English  tweed,  with  his  cap  crammed  down  over  his 
vexed  blue  eyes.  Whatever  mood  V.  C.  was  in,  his 
eyes  were  rather  melancholy ;  but  their  usual  expression 
was  one  which  men  called  ill-tempered,  and  women, 
dissatisfied.  Margery  glanced  at  him  with  a  certain 
kindliness :  apart  from  any  sympathy  for  a  spoiled  life, 
she  liked  his  face,  though  he  was  not  handsome,  being 
brown  and  thin  with  a  ragged  moustache  and  deep 
lines  drawn  round  the  mouth  and  eyes.  V.  C.  was 
barely  thirty,  but  he  looked  ten  years  older. 

"This  is  the  consequence  of  feminine  gossip,  you 
see,"  said  Madge,  gaily.  "  We  procrastinate,  and  then 
have  to  appeal  for  a  masculine  bodyguard." 

"It 's  about  all  men  are  good  for,  from  a  woman's 
point  of  view,  is  n't  it  ?  "  he  said  with  a  half  smile. 

"  Oh,  one  or  two  things  besides,  —  to  manage  the 
tax-collector  and  to  vote,  and  other  necessary  but  tire- 
some things  of  that  sort." 

"  Yes,  I  daresay.  That  's  just  like  your  sex,  you  are 
so  crafty.  You  think  all  this  in  your  inmost  hearts,  and 
yet  you  contrive  to  give  men  the  impression  that  you 
think  a  lot  of  them  !  "  V.  C.  was  half  jesting  and  half 
serious.  His  soft,  complaining  tone  came  out  of  the 
dusk  at  her  side  and  seemed  a  part  of  the  fading  light. 
Madge  knew  he  was  talking  nonsense  to  pass  the  time, 
and  keep  himself  from  graver  thoughts  that  drove  him 
mad,  and  she  humoured  him. 


2i 8  The  Story  of  Eden 

"Crafty!"  she  said,  laughing.  "What  a  very  odd 
word  !  Am  I  crafty,  please?" 

"  Well,  now,  ar'n't  you  ?  Look  at  the  present  case 
as  an  instance.  You  really  only  want  me  as  an  escort 
because  you  are  afraid  of  the  dark ;  but  you  are  being 
very  sweet  to  me  in  order  to  make  me  think  that  you 
like  walking  with  me." 

"Well,  really,  Mr.  Cayley,  you  wouldn't  like  me 
to  be  disagreeable,  would  you?  And  as  to  being 
'  very  sweet,'  I  am  nothing  of  the  sort.  I  am  just  as 
usual." 

"  Yes,  that 's  just  what  I  mean." 

"  Oh,  then  you  mean  that  I  am  always  crafty !  " 

"  No  —  only  very  sweet." 

They  looked  at  each  other  and  laughed  through  the 
dusk. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  must  not  look  for  single  reasons, 
or  single  emotions  of  any  sort  from  us,"  said  Madge, 
more  seriously.  "  You  will  never  understand  us  if  you 
try  and  translate  what  we  do  from  one  motive,  for  we 
generally  have  twelve.  Life  is  never  a  very  simple 
thing  to  a  woman.  It  must  always  be  more  or  less  com- 
plicated, from  her  very  nature." 

"  I  don't  understand  women,"  said  he,  slowly,  proving 
by  the  very  admission  that  he  had  the  power  when  he 
chose.  "  A  woman  is  never  dependable.  She  has  so 
many  courses  of  action  that  she  may  pursue.  Now  a 
man  has  only  one,  in  most  situations." 

"Yes,  it  is  generally  the  one  he  likes  best,"  said 
Madge,  quietly. 

"  I  suppose  we  have  n't  much  to  boast  of."  He 
gave  a  sharp,  hurt  sigh. 

*  I  think  we  must  '  accept  ourselves  as  we  are,'  as 
Scherer  says.  I  found  that  sentence  in  '  Amiel's  Journal ' 
the  other  day,  and  it  struck  me." 

"  It  is  a  comforting  philosophy,  certainly,"  V.  C.  said 
rather  dryly,  as  they  turned  into  the  lane  from  the  open 


The  Story  of  Eden  219 

gate,  and  paused  by  tacit  consent  at  the  beginning  of 
the  drive.  Vine  Lodge  loomed  up  square  and  black 
behind  them,  glaring  at  the  increasing  darkness  with  the 
red  eyes  of  lamp-lit  windows,  not  yet  darkened.  It  sug- 
gested inside  warmth  and  a  home  atmosphere,  at  which 
V.  C.  looked  hungrily,  as  though  he  coveted  something 
beyond  his  reach.  He  was  standing  just  where  Vibart 
had  stood  on  the  night  when  he  came  back,  unexpect- 
edly, and  found  Margery  shut  out  of  the  house,  —  the 
night  when.  .  .  .  She  remembered,  and  shifted  her 
position,  involuntarily,  to  make  him  move  also. 

"  So  you  read  '  Amiel,'  "  he  said. 

"  Yes,  but  I  do  not  know  if  I  like  him.  He  is  so 
afraid  of  action  of  any  sort.  I  feel  at  last  that  I  must 
make  him  do  something,  never  mind  his  regretting  it 
or  not." 

"  I  think  most  action  is  a  mistake,  —  important,  seri- 
ous action,  I  mean,  that  involves  consequence  of  any 
kind.  Can't  you  sympathise  with  Amiel?  I  can.  I 
think  I  must  have  something  of  the  same  weakness  of 
mind." 

"  No,  I  don't  sympathise  with  him,  he  irritated  me, 
as  I  say.  I  can  more  easily  forgive  sins  of  commission 
than  omission.  It  seems  to  me  that  to  have  been  good 
by  avoiding  absolute  bad,  is  never  to  have  lived  at  all. 
Besides  it  is  only  negative  virtue." 

"You  should  read  Browning.  That  is  exactly  his 
creed  — 

"  '  If  you  choose  to  play  1  it 's  my  principle, 
Let  a  man  contend  to  the  uttermost 
For  his  life's  set  prize,  be  it  what  it  will. 
The  counter  our  lover 's  staked,  was  lost 
As  surely  as  if  it  were  lawful  coin ; 
And  the  sin  I  impute  to  each  frustrate  ghost 

" '  Is,  the  lamp  unlit  and  the  ungirt  loin, 
Though  the  end  in  sight  was  a  vice,  I  say.' " 

Afterwards  it  struck  Madge  how  strange  it  was  to  be 


220  The  Story  of  Eden 

standing  there  in  the  dark,  on  the  very  spot  where  Vi- 
bart  had  persuaded  her,  .  .  .  and  to  hear  V.  C.'s  voice 
repeating  the  bold  philosophy  which,  if  applied  to  her 
own  story,  said,  "  Better  the  deed,  than  the  apathetic 
shrinking  from  the  deed."  She  laughed  a  little  oddly 
as  she  shook  hands  with  him. 

" '  The  Statue  and  the  Bust,'  is  n't  it  ?  "  she  said.  "  I 
will  read  it  again." 

"  Yes,"  he  answered.  "  Good-night.  Thank  you 
for  letting  me  come  with  you  — ^even  if  you  only  wanted 
an  escort." 

She  heard  his  tramp  die  away  down  the  lane  towards 
the  Camp,  and  for  the  first  time  active  regret  seized 
her  for  the  part  she  had  played  a  year  ago  —  not  yet 
for  her  own  sake,  but  for  Cayley's. 

"  Why  did  n't  /  marry  this  man,  and  save  him  ? "  she 
thought  suddenly.  "  If  his  destiny  was  marriage,  why 
not  me  rather  than  that  woman  who  is  making  his  life 
hell.  We  were  both  free,  drifting  rudderless,  as  likely 
to  take  each  other  as  any  other  two  human  beings  in 
all  the  world.  Yet  by  some  mischance  I  was  bound  up 
in  another  interest,  and  thought  of  nothing  but  Jack 
Vibart,  and  Valentine  Cayley  did  not  realise  my  exist- 
ence. So  we  missed  each  other,  and  I  did  not  help  as 
I  might  have  done."  She  did  not  know  that  she  had, 
indirectly,  thrust  him  into  his  present  disaster.  In  so 
far,  the  Gods  were  merciful. 

Margery  found  the  drawing-room  alight  and  cosy; 
tea  was  awaiting  her,  and  Crofton  was  sitting  beside  the 
little  table,  reading  the  evening  paper.  He  put  it  down 
as  she  appeared. 

"  I  began  to  think  you  were  lost,  and  was  coming  to 
look  for  you,"  he  said. 

"Isn't  Anthony  in?" 

"  I  have  n't  seen  him." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  he  will  turn  up  if  he  wants  tea.  I 
am  sorry  you  were  left  to  entertain  yourself.  We  are  a 


The  Story  of  Eden  221 

neglectful  host  and  hostess,  I  am  afraid.  Will  you  pour 
out  the  tea  ?  "  He  was  nearer  the  tray  than  she,  and 
she  had  made  a  point  of  asking  little  familiar  acts  from 
him  with  the  purpose  of  not  allowing  him  to  feel  him- 
self a  stranger.  He  rose  at  once,  however,  and  offered 
her  his  seat. 

"  I  would  rather  you  did.    Let  me  hand  the  tea-cake  ! " 

She  laughed,  and  made  tea  for  him  in  the  friendly 
domestic  fashion  which  he  valued  the  more  from  his 
bachelor  existence,  without  telling  her  so.  "  I  stayed 
playing  with  Mrs.  Drysdale's  children,"  she  said.  "  I 
want  to  introduce  you  to  Mrs.  Drysdale.  She  has  asked 
us  to  dinner  there  on  Friday,  and  we  are  to  take  some 
music." 

"  Are  the  children  part  of  the  entertainment  ?  " 

"  No,  most  emphatically  not.  The  Drysdales  are 
people  who  never  inflict  their  friends  with  their  domestic 
belongings,  unless  they  are  specially  requested  to  do  so. 
You  would  hardly  know  that  they  had  any  children, 
until  you  were  intimate  there." 

"What  an  uncommonly  well-ordered  household  it 
must  be  !  " 

"  I  always  thought  it  a  reasonable  household,  more 
than  anything  else.  I  should  like  my  own  to  be  just 
like  that,  if  I  were  a  married  woman  with  a  nursery." 

Crofton  contemplated  her  from  behind  a  piece  of  but- 
tered tea-cake.  She  was  really  wondering,  suppose  that 
sudden  fancy  of  hers  had  been  true  instead  of  the  pres- 
ent tragedy  of  the  case,  whether  she  would  have  managed 
V.  C.'s  household  as  well  as  Mrs.  Drysdale's.  "  There 
would  be  the  lack  of  mean,"  she  considered,  "  and  the 
disadvantages  always  attacking  a  soldier's  wife,  but  I 
believe  it  could  have  been  done."  Crofton  could  know 
nothing  of  the  intensely  private  speculation  behind  the 
dreamy  softness  of  her  face.  He  also  vaguely  spec- 
ulated in  unknown  domesticity  for  a  moment. 

"Well,  was  your  house- hunting  satisfactory?"  she 
said,  rousing  herself. 


222  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  No,  not  entirely.  The  Newlands  property  I  looked 
at,  won't  do.  But  I  am  half  inclined  to  buy  the  Rosary." 

"  The  Rosary  !  That  old  house  with  the  beautiful  gar- 
den on  the  Constantia  Road  ?  Yes,  I  know  it.  It  is  a 
lovely  place,  of  course.  But  it  would  need  a  good  deal 
of  putting  in  order."  She  looked  at  him  with  some 
attention.  He  must  be  possessed  of  some  capital  to 
think  of  buying  the  Rosary.  "  And  is  n't  it  rather 
large  for  you?"  she  suggested,  with  some  hesitation. 

"  If  I  settle  in  this  neighbourhood,  I  don't  want  to 
buy  a  cottage.  I  might  marry,  and  in  any  case  I  like 
a  fair-sized  house." 

"Oh  —  yes."  Madge  felt  rather  nonplussed.  "Well, 
it  is  a  beautiful  old  Dutch  house,"  she  said  cheerfully. 
"  In  some  ways  I  like  it  better  than  Friedenhof.  I 
hope  you  will  let  me  come  and  see  you  furnish  it,  if 
you  do  take  it." 

"  I  should  buy  it,  if  I  took  it  at  all.  Of  course  I  meant 
to  ask  you  to  advise  me  about  the  furnishing.  Women 
have  better  taste  than  men  in  those  things.  But  I 
have  lots  of  ideas." 

"  So  have  I,"  agreed  Madge,  amicably.  "  Oh,  I  hope 
you  will  take  it !  It  will  be  delightful  to  get  a  chance 
of  expressing  myself  in  a  nice  house.  I  always  think 
that  people's  characters  come  out  more  in  the  choice  of 
furniture  than  anything." 

He  looked  at  her  thoughtfully.  "  You  would  like  to 
furnish  the  Rosary?"  he  said.  "You  can't  think  of 
any  house  you  would  like  better  ?  " 

The  remark  held  no  significance  to  Madge,  though 
after  she  had  told  him  she  did  not  think  he  could  do 
better,  he  seemed  to  consider  the  matter  settled,  and 
spoke  of  the  Rosary  as  almost  certainly  his.  That  he 
regarded  its  purchase  as  having  any  connection  with 
her  did  not  occur  to  her  mind,  in  the  light  of  his  per- 
fectly frank  manner  and  friendliness  towards  her  at  all 
times.  He  was  very  friendly,  almost  confidential  in 


The  Story  of  Eden  223 

his  relations  with  her,  —  a  condition  of  things  beyond 
Madge's  power  of  judgment,  her  opinion  of  her  own 
attraction  to  men  having  always  hitherto  been  based 
on  a  certain  degree  of  flirtation ;  but  a  varied  experi- 
ence had  taught  Crofton  to  keep  his  thoughts  and 
intentions  to  himself,  and  his  was  not  a  nature  to  be 
known  in  an  hour.  Apart  from  all  this,  Margery  had 
grown  to  look  upon  herself  as  divided  from  other  un- 
married women  by  reason  of  Jack  Vibart,  and  forgot 
that  such  division  was  not  obvious  to  the  rest  of  the 
world.  She  had  for  a  time  clung  to  the  delusion  that 
her  feeling  for  Vibart  was  the  utmost  of  which  her 
nature  was  capable,  and  that  she  lived  only  upon  the 
hope  of  seeing  him  the  next  year  in  England.  But 
things  had  intervened  to  prevent  the  Professor  carry- 
ing out  his  half  formed  scheme  of  going  Home,  and 
Margery  found  that  in  spite  of  her  efforts  she  did  not 
much  care.  Indeed  it  became  gradually  so  uncontro- 
vertible  a  fact  that  her  passion  had  died  a  natural 
death,  that  she  could  no  longer  deny  it,  even  to  herself, 
and  regarded  her  past  with  wonder  and  some  contempt. 
The  connection  with  Vibart  had  been,  after  all,  of  so 
little  importance  to  her  that  she  could  not  regard  it  as 
the  sacred  thing  she  had  wished.  It  had  left  her 
without  a  future,  however.  She  could  not  look,  even 
in  the  innermost  recesses  of  her  heart,  to  marriage  as 
the  goal  and  crown  of  her  life  —  even  as  the  conclusion 
of  the  present  order  of  her  circumstances.  She  had 
substituted  a  return  to  England  as  the  turning  point  of 
her  fortunes  whenever  she  found  it  irresistible  to  look 
ahead.  "  Until  I  go  Home  again,"  she  said  when  she 
wished  to  mark  a  period,  as  girls  without  her  experi- 
ence might  have  said,  "  Until  I  marry,"  however  secret 
they  might  keep  such  hopes.  But  in  general  Margery 
Cunningham  did  not  allow  her  thoughts  to  rest  on  the 
life  prospect  before  her.  The  brevity  of  her  love  for 
Vibart  had  not  only  driven  her  into  a  distrust  of  herself 


224  The  Story  of  Eden 

and  her  deeper  emotions,  but  had  caused  her  to  cling 
more  desperately  to  the  little  round  of  her  days,  and 
the  things  in  the  immediate  present.  She  imbued 
herself  with  the  shifting  life  of  the  neighbourhood,  and 
made  her  interests  in  the  events  of  one  week  to 
another,  without  even  making  plans  so  far  ahead  as 
next  season. 

Crofton  went  with  Margery  to  Mrs.  Drysdale's 
dinner,  and  they  found  themselves  well  entertained. 
The  Mowbray  boy  was  possessed  of  the  susceptibility 
which  goes  with  curly  hair ;  in  the  short  conversation 
space  before  dinner  he  waxed  chatty  with  Madge,  who 
was  his  partner,  and  whom  he  then  met  for  the  first 
time  ;  during  dinner  he  was  attentive,  but  afterwards  in 
the  drawing-room  she  sang,  and  that  completed  his 
subjection.  He  could  not  bring  himself  to  thoroughly 
appreciate  Mr.  Crofton's  baritone,  particularly  in  duets 
with  Miss  Cunningham,  but  he  absorbed  as  much  of 
her  attention  as  possible  to  console  himself,  and  left 
Crofton  to  his  hostess,  —  the  serenity  with  which  that 
gentleman  fell  in  with  the  arrangement  leading  Mow- 
bray  to  the  decision  that  he  was  after  all  a  deuced  good 
fellow. 

"  You  must  come  and  see  me,"  Madge  said  in  the 
friendly  fashion  peculiar  to  her.  "  I  am  having  some 
tennis  next  week." 

"  Thanks,  I  should  like  it  awfully  !  " 

"And  I  will  introduce  you  to  all  the  prettiest 
girls." 

"  Will  you  ?  But  I  think  I  Ve  begun  very  well 
already,  you  know  !  " 

"Oh,  who  have  you  met?  Have  you  seen  Millie 
Hearne,  or  Kate  Devigne,  or  the  Hofman's,  or  Polly 
Harbord  ?  " 

"  No,  —  but  I  have  seen  you,  you  know."  He 
looked  at  her  with  honest  admiration  in  his  young 
eyes,  and  with  the  happy  confidence  of  his  years. 


The  Story  of  Eden  225 

"  Oh,  how  very  nice  of  you  !  "  Margery  was  laugh- 
ing openly ;  the  sound  of  it  went  across  the  room,  and 
caused  Crofton  to  turn  from  the  music  he  was  discus- 
sing with  Mrs.  Drysdale,  and  look  at  her. 

"  It  is  n't  particularly  nice,"  the  boy  said  stoutly,  — 
he  was  a  delightful  boy,  -  -  "  I  expect  it 's  only  what 
they  all  tell  you  !  " 

"  It  isn't,  indeed  !  I  never  remember  having  such  a 
wholesale  compliment  paid  me  before." 

"  Well,  they  all  think  it  then.  You  can  introduce 
me  to  any  amount  of  girls,  but  I  'm  sure  I  've  seen  the 
pret  —  the  best  already  !  " 

"  I  assure  you,  you  are  quite  alone  in  your  opinion," 
Madge  was  beginning,  but  she  stopped  suddenly. 

"  You  know  you  are  the  prettiest  girl  about  here  ! " 
A  faint  echo  from  the  plumbago  hedges  of  last  year 
floated  across  her  reluctant  memory. 

"At  any  rate  I  much  appreciate  your  compliment," 
she  substituted  lightly  for  her  unfinished  speech.  "  Do 
you  like  Wynberg?  " 

"  Yes,  I  should  think  it 's  a  ripping  place  when  you 
get  into  the  hang  of  things.  Mrs.  Drysdale  says  you 
have  jolly  picnics  in  the  summer." 

"  By  moonlight,  yes.     Do  you  ride  ?  " 

"  Rather !  It 's  about  the  only  thing  on  which  I 
pride  myself.  I  'm  awfully  vain  over  my  riding." 

"  I  hope  it  won't  be  the  pride  that  goes  before  a  fall. 
I  can  ride  too  !  " 

"Oh,  will  you?  "  he  said  promptly. 

"What?" 

"  Ride  with  me,  of  course  !  " 

"Miss  Cunningham,  will  you  sing  this?"  Crofton 
asked  formally,  from  the  further  side  of  the  room. 

"What  is  it?  —  'Lovelace'?  Oh,  I  don't  think  — 
No,  I  would  rather  sing  something  else.  That's  too 
high." 

"  As  you  please  1 " 


226  The  Story  of  Eden 

("  I  have  annoyed  Mr.  Crofton,"  thought  Madge,  as 
she  sat  down  to  the  piano  and  began  to  sing.  "  But  it 
can't  be  helped.  Why  did  I  ever  sing  him  '  Lovelace '  ? 
I  hate  the  very  sound  of  it !  And  I  suppose  it  was  my 
declining  to  sing  it  now  that  has  upset  him.") 

("  It  is  her  innate  vanity  !  "  thought  Crofton,  whose 
temper  often  boiled  unsuspected  beneath  the  curb  he 
put  upon  it.  "  She  cannot  leave  any  man  alone  — 
even  that  boy  must  be  a  victim  to  feed  the  fire  !  What 
a  fool  I  am  to  think  about  it  at  all !  Let  her  flirt  —  it 
is  nothing  to  me.") 

The  Mowbray  boy  sat  entranced,  while  Margery  did 
her  best  to  soothe  Crofton  by  singing  with  great  gentle- 
ness a  little  German  song,  which  had  the  contrary 
effect  of  increasing  his  sense  of  injury,  and  of  enslaving 
the  already  smitten  subaltern. 

"  Moon,  didst  thou  see  my  loved  one 

Give  me  a  kiss  last  night  ? 
Moon  dearest,  O  believe  me, 
1  did  not  think  it  right  I " 

Oswald  Drysdale,  who  generally  filled  the  post  of 
onlooker  seeing  most  of  the  game,  came  out  of  his 
corner  suddenly  and  went  to  talk  to  Mowbray,  regard- 
less of  straying  eyes  and  wide  answers. 

"Just  come  out  from  Home,  have  n't  you?  " 

"  No,  I  joined  from  India." 

"  Had  a  good  time  ?  " 

"Pretty  fair.  Rather  dull.  Nothing  but  a  few 
border  skirmishes  out  of  our  reach.  Wish  there  'd  be 
a  jolly  big  war !  Promotion 's  awfully  slow,  —  the 
Regiment  wants  thinning.  There  's  no  chance  of  it 
here,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Read  the  papers  !  " 

"  They  don't  count  for  anything." 

"  That 's  exactly  what  I  mean.     It  must  come." 

"  Well,  by  Jove  »  we  ought  to  lick  them,  because  of 
Majuba." 


The  Story  of  Eden  227 

"  I  don't  say  I  think  it  just  —  " 

"Oh,  but  we  can't  leave  that  not  wiped  out,"  said 
the  boy,  simply.  "  We  must  just  lick  them  —  I  don't 
care  what  pretext  we  give.  Is  n't  their  Government 
corrupt?" 

"  Frightfully,  but  then  they  have  an  argument  on 
their  side.  They  never  wanted  us  to  overrun  them  as 
we  have,  and  half  the  world  talks  about  our  policy  of 
aggrandisement." 

"Who  wants  their  blasted  country?  Let's  go  and 
lick  them,  and  then  give  it  back  again  !  " 

"  My  dear  fellow,  we  should  have  exactly  the  same 
trouble  as  now,  if  we  did.  It  would  not  improve 
matters  in  the  least.  They  would  slip  back  into  the 
old  abuses." 

"  Oh,  well,  we  could  always  go  and  lick  them  again  !  " 

"The  Duke's  are  a  good  old  fighting  Regiment,"  re- 
marked Ossy,  with  a  sigh.  "But  they  do  not  teach 
their  subs  political  economy  as  well  as  the  traditions 
of  the  Army.  Going,  Miss  Cunningham?  Come  into 
the  other  room,  and  have  some  whisky  before  you 
start,  Crofton  !  " 

"Are  you  staying  at  Vine  Lodge?"  Mowbray  asked, 
as  the  whisky  was  dealt  out,  while  Madge  was  gone  to 
put  on  her  cloak. 

"Yes." 

"  What  luck  some  fellows  have  !  "  Mowbray  re- 
marked to  himself  ingenuously. 

He  accompanied  Crofton  and  Madge  to  their  own 
gate,  and  marched  off  to  Camp  down  the  lane,  whist- 
ling a  bar  of  her  last  song. 

"  You  appear  to  have  made  a  conquest,"  remarked 
Crofton,  disagreeably.  "  I  will  congratulate  you  —  if 
you  care  for  small  game  ?  " 

"  I  think  he 's  a  dear  boy  !  What 's  the  matter,  Mr. 
Crofton  ?  You  are  speaking  in  a  very  nasty  tone  !  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  should  think  my 


The  Story  of  Eden 

tone   was   moderately   immaterial,  but   if  you   would 
rather  have  my  silence,  you  certainly  shall." 

"  I  really  don't  see  why  you  should  adopt  this  atti- 
tude," said  Margery,  nettled.  "  What  on  earth  is  it  to 
do  with  you  if  I  choose  to  talk  to  Mr.  Mowbray,  or  he 
comes  to  call  here?  "  She  was  so  really  astonished  that 
it  became  evident  in  her  voice,  the  surprise  of  which 
seemed  to  incense  Crofton  all  the  more. 

"  It  is  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  me,"  he  agreed, 
with  an  icy  reserve  that  brought  her  first  impression  of 
him  again  to  Margery's  mind.  "  I  beg  your  pardon 
for  interfering." 

They  had  reached  the  doorstep,  and  Margery  was 
fitting  the  key  into  the  lock.  "  I  am  afraid  Anthony 
will  have  gone  to  bed,"  she  said  in  a  tone  that  be- 
trayed nothing.  "  Will  you  care  to  smoke  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you.     Good-night." 

"You  won't  have  some  more  whisky?  " 

"I  had  some  with  Drysdale,  thanks.     Good-night." 

Without  another  word  she  closed  the  dining-room 
door  and  turned  the  key.  Then  she  paused  with  her 
hand  on  the  switch  of  the  electric  light.  "  If  you  will 
go  upstairs,  I  will  turn  this  off,"  she  said. 

"  May  I  do  it  for  you?  " 

"  No,  thank  you.  It  would  be  more  to  the  point  if 
you  went  upstairs." 

"  Good-night." 

"  Good-night." 

He  walked  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  —  Margery  stood 
patiently  with  her  hand  on  the  switch;  she  had  not 
given  him  any  other  salutation  beyond  a  slight  bend  of 
her  head,  nor  did  she  look  at  him  now.  He  put  his 
foot  on  the  bottom  stair,  hesitated,  and  suddenly 
crashed  back  to  her  across  the  hall,  treading  so  heavily 
that  she  trembled  for  fear  lest  Anthony  should  wake. 
"  What  on  earth  made  you  flirt  with  that  confounded 
boy?"  he  said,  drawing  his  dark  brows  into  a  knotted 


The  Story  of  Eden  229 

line  and  looking  at  her  with  the  straight  look  she  had 
said  she  liked.  It  was  a  very  angry  look  just  now. 

"  Oh,"  she  responded  coolly.  "Is  that  it?"  And 
then  suddenly  her  sense  of  humour  got  the  better  of 
her  indignation.  "  Mr.  Crofton,  please  do  not  be  so 
silly  1 "  she  said  frankly.  "  I  did  not  flirt  with  him  —  I 
laughed  and  talked  as  I  always  do.  What  is  the  use  of 
glaring  at  me  like  a  hero  of  melodrama  ?  You  have  no 
right  to  lecture  me — " 

"  I  am  not  lecturing  you.  Only  I  don't  like  to  see 
you  making  eyes  at  any  man  you  may  chance  to  meet 
like  that,  any  more  than  I  should  my  —  my  sister." 

"  I  don't  make  eyes  !  How  can  you  say  so  !  I 
treated  him  exactly  as  I  treat  any  one  else  —  you,  for 
instance.  You  don't  suppose  I  am  flirting  with  you, 
just  because  I  am  friendly?  " 

His  eyes  glinted  with  a  queer  half- savage  expression. 
"  By  God !  you  had  better  not,"  he  said  below  his 
breath. 

Margery  started,  and  stared  at  him  harder  than  ever. 
"The  Savage  is  coming  to  the  top  with  a  vengeance !" 
she  thought.  "He  looks  as  if — as  if — what?  Oh, 
he  must  have  had  too  much  whisky  ! "  But  the  quiver 
of  her  nerves  belied  the  thought.  Crofton  was  not 
drunk ;  but  he  was  shaken  out  of  his  self-control  and 
usual  reticence,  and  a  glimpse  of  real  nature  always 
upset  and  frightened  Margery.  She  had  identified  her- 
self so  much  with  the  shams  of  the  light-hearted  world 
round  her,  that  to  have  the  veil  torn  aside,  as  it  had 
been  once  or  twice  before  when  she  touched  on  ugly 
naked  passion,  was  a  disagreeable  shock. 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  she  said  coldly,  with  an 
effort  at  recovery.  "  I  am  sorry  if  you  thought  I  be- 
haved as  if  I  were  carrying  on  a  particularly  vulgar 
flirtation,  —  which  is  the  only  way  in  which  I  can 
translate  your  extraordinary  remarks  1  I  had  no  idea 
of  flirting  with  any  one,  —  nor  do  I  wish  to  discuss  the 
•ubject  further.  Good -night  1 " 


230  The  Story  of  Eden 

He  stood  on  one  side,  slowly,  still  looking  at  her 
with  frowning  intensity.  "  I  am  sorry  on  my  part  if  I 
spoke  harshly,"  he  said,  with  an  air  of  lordly  acknowl- 
edgement, that  again  roused  in  Madge  a  desire  for 
hysterical  laughter.  ("  He  speaks  as  if  he  were  con- 
ferring a  vast  favour  !  '*  she  thought.)  "  Will  you  shake 
hands?" 

"  Oh,  of  course  !     Now,  do  please  go  to  bed  !  " 

She  was  so  nervous  that  it  required  an  effort  to  put 
her  hand  in  his.  He  held  it  for  a  moment  in  a  strong 
grip,  then  put  her  gently  on  one  side,  towards  the 
stairs. 

"  I  am  going  to  put  out  the  light  for  you  ! "  he  said, 
and  she  obeyed  him  in  silence,  and  went  up  to  her 
own  room.  As  she  turned  at  the  head  of  the  stairs, 
she  glanced  down  at  his  motionless  figure,  waiting  still 
in  the  hall  below.  He  stood  there  until  she  had  reached 
her  own  door  before  he  involved  the  hall  and  himself 
in  darkness,  and  then  followed  her  quietly.  She  went 
into  her  room  with  drooping  head  before  he  had 
crossed  the  landing  to  his  own. 

It  was  a  relief  to  Margery  to  find  that  Crofton  had 
quieted  down  the  next  day,  and  was  as  she  had  always 
known  him,  a  somewhat  forceful,  self-centred  com- 
panion, but  with  no  new  or  disturbing  developments 
to  alarm  her.  Their  intercourse  was  a  pleasant,  easy 
affair  as  a  rule,  for  they  had  many  interests  in  com- 
mon, and  those  subjects  where  they  found  themselves 
on  different  planes  of  thought,  she  avoided  with  femi- 
nine skill.  "  You  must  take  men  as  you  find  them," 
said  Margery,  philosophically.  She  arranged  her  men- 
tal attitude  to  suit  Crofton's,  just  as  she  did  Drys- 
dale's  or  Truman's  when  with  them,  with  the  result 
that  Crofton  fancied  himself  in  more  complete  har- 
mony with  her  than  he  really  was.  But  that  belief, 
however  intimate  they  became,  would  probably  never 
be  shaken.  If  he  discovered  any  lack  of  sympathy,  he 


The  Story  of  Eden  231 

would  place  the  deficit  on  her  side,  not  on  his,  and 
conclude  that  women  could  not  always  comprehend  a 
man's  point  of  view,  without  realising  his  own  inca- 
pacity to  comprehend  a  woman's.  It  was  in  the  nature 
of  things  that  Madge  should  know  otherwise,  but  she 
knew  also  that  there  were  moods  of  hers  into  which  no 
created  being,  man  or  woman,  could  enter,  however 
intuitive  or  in  touch  with  her.  This  is  a  knowledge 
learned  slowly,  but  not  always  fully  recognised,  for  we 
all  struggle  against  it,  however  strong  our  stoicism. 
That  terrible  saying  of  Emerson's,  that  souls  never 
touch  their  object,  is  a  truth  which  has  driven  more 
saints  into  Paradise  than  all  the  creeds.  The  realisa- 
tions, however  partial,  of  its  loneliness,  makes  the  human 
soul  stretch  out  after  an  intangible  Divinity,  since  the 
tangible  around  it  is  proved  out  of  reach.  My  brother 
cannot  understand  me,  —  but  I  can  assert  a  God,  and 
setting  him,  an  independent  presence,  in  the  far-off 
Heavens,  I  can  take  comfort  in  my  faith  that  He  does, 
just  so  long  as  I  feel  Him  a  personality  sufficiently  human 
to  be  a  satisfactory  confidant.  Margery  prayed  to  a 
dogmatical  God  apart  from  her  convictions.  When  her 
nature  was  stirred  to  its  deepest,  when  she  knew  that  her 
soul  stood  lonely  in  a  universe  created  in  its  own  idea, 
then  she  did  not  pray.  She  felt  without  words,  and  ex- 
perience was  teaching  her  not  to  attempt  expression. 
Crofton  had  his  moods  into  which  no  one  could  enter 
also,  but  being  the  masculine  and  less  complex  animal, 
he  accepted  them  as  an  established  fact,  and  did  not 
analyse  or  expect  sympathy.  Indeed,  the  isolation  of 
his  own  individuality  was  to  him  merely  a  proof  of  a 
certain  superiority,  rather  than  a  loss  of  fellowship  with 
his  kind.  He  had  begun  to  like  Margery  Cunningham 
rather  against  his  will,  for  he  was  keen-sighted  enough 
to  see  that  certain  of  her  faults  were  hardly  tolerable 
from  his  standpoint.  Yet  he  continued  to  like  her, 
and  to  be  attracted  by  her  best  side,  which  was  the 


23  2  The  Story  of  Eden 

one  he  most  frequently  saw.  Propinquity  and  oppor- 
tunity, the  twin  powers  that  influence  human  nature 
most,  were  beginning  to  change  the  reluctant  liking  to 
something  less  capable  of  judgment.  If  Crofton  had 
really  wished  to  avoid  such  an  influence  he  would, 
however,  have  left  Vine  Lodge  after  a  few  days,  as  he 
originally  intended ;  but  he  lingered  on  from  week  to 
week,  more  conscious  of  his  own  motive  than  Margery, 
who  was  entrenching  herself  in  an  honest  friendship, 
and  was  debarred  from  thinking  of  anything  warmer, 
both  by  ties  in  the  past  and  conscientious  scruples  of 
which  Crofton  could  have  no  conception.  Even  the 
incident  of  Miles  Mowbray,  and  Crofton's  rabid  hostil- 
ity upon  his  subsequent  visits,  merely  made  her  laugh, 
and  roused  her  to  no  sense  of  the  perils  of  the  situa- 
tion. She  was  happy,  as  ever,  in  the  present,  and  with 
her  acquired  irresponsibility,  would  not  look  to  any 
possible  development. 


CHAPTER  XII 

"Where  is  loss  f 

Am  I  in  Eden  ?     Can  another  speak 
Mine  own  love's  tongut  f  " 

JOEY  TULLOCK'S  luncheon  party  on  board  H.  M.  S. 
Skate  comprised  Mrs.  Redmayne  and  Madge,  Crofton, 
Valentine  Cayley,  and  Polly  Harbord.  It  was  not 
long  since  he  had  been  promoted  to  Commander  of 
the  little  third-class  cruiser,  and  he  presided  with  much 
gold  lace  and  affability  in  the  tiny  cabin  at  the  stern  of 
the  ship.  The  hour's  journey  that  lay  between  Simon's 
Town  and  Wynberg  had  prevented  Madge  from  know- 
ing as  much  of  the  naval  side  of  social  life  as  she  did 
of  the  military;  but  she  was  always  charmed  afresh 
when  she  found  herself  within  the  cheery  little  colony 
in  False  Bay.  There  was  more  good  comradeship,  and 
even  greater  lack  of  ceremony,  amongst  the  circle  there 
than  in  the  larger  area  of  the  suburbs  round  Cape 
Town.  The  tiny  cottages  up  the  cliff  side  were  full  of 
the  wives  of  the  naval  men  on  the  boats  in  the  Bay, 
and  the  little  station  hummed  with  informal  visiting 
and  gaiety,  while  there  was  an  innocent  picnic  air 
about  the  dining-out,  and  card  parties,  and  scratch 
dances,  which  sprang  up  like  mushrooms  daily. 

"  We  have  been  keeping  it  up  this  week ! "  Joey 
said  as  they  sat  at  luncheon.  "  A  dance  on  Monday, 
—  sports  Tuesday  (I  dined  out  that  night,  too,  and 
played  poker  till  two  the  next  morning !),  —  three 
luncheon  parties,  —  theatricals  Thursday,  and  a  gym- 
kana  on  Saturday  ! " 

"  I  always  said  you  were  far  more  frivolous  here  than 


234  The  Story  of  Eden 

we  are  !  "  said  Margery,  gaily.  "  I  have  n't  dined  out 
since  I  went  to  the  Drysdales  last  week,  find  I  am  sure 
Mr.  Crofton  thinks  us  very  tame  after  Johannesburg  !  " 

"  Dear  rustic  town  !  do  they  still  scratch  each  other's 
eyes  out  at  the  public  functions  there?"  Cissie  Red- 
mayne  asked.  "  I  spent  a  week  in  Johannesburg  once 
with  my  husband.  We  were  doing  the  round  tour,  and 
came  back  by  sea.  I  remember  they  began  putting 
on  their  diamonds  about  twelve  o'clock  in  the  day 
(not  earlier),  and  they  offered  us  iced  salmon  —  Eng- 
lish salmon  !  —  as  a  special  attention.  I  took  a  long 
time  to  recover  from  that  week  ! " 

"I  never  attempted  to  sample  the  society  to  any 
great  extent,"  said  Crofton,  indifferently.  "  I  was  out- 
side the  town,  in  Doornfontein,  and  found  my  distrac- 
tion chiefly  in  the  theatres  and  the  halls." 

"  I  am  glad  I  don't  live  in  commercial  centres," 
said  Madge,  comfortably.  "  It  must  be  so  terrible  ! 
We  have  got  quite  the  prettiest  side  of  the  life  out 
here  in  the  suburbs." 

She  glanced  out  of  the  porthole  opposite  her  to  the 
glimpse  of  the  smiling  bay  and  the  curve  of  shore. 
Every  time  the  Skate  rolled  a  little  in  her  moorings,  a 
picture  of  dotted  white  houses  and  green  hillside  rose 
up,  framed  in  the  porthole,  and  with  the  return  swing 
came  the  hollow  blue  sky  without  a  cloud  to  mar  it. 

"  Do  you  like  a  pretty  life?  "  V.  C.  asked,  turning  to 
her.  "  It  sounds  like  existence  on  a  Christmas  card  !  '* 

"  It  is  very  much  more  comfortable  than  the  unfin- 
ished side  of  existence  Up  Country,"  said  Margery, 
practically.  "The  Colony  is  only  in  the  schoolboy 
stage  inland,  and  is  all  elbows  and  knees  and  rude 
remarks  !  " 

"  It  will  grow  —  particularly  if  the  Boers  are  no 
longer  the  schoolmasters  ! "  said  Mrs.  Redmayne,  sig- 
nificantly. "  Shall  we  have  war,  Mr.  Cayley?" 

"  Yes,  if  I  am  consulted  1 " 


The  Story  of  Eden  235 

"It's  a  poor  chance  for  us,"  grumbled  Tullock. 
"Your  service  will  get  all  the  fun,  and  I  don't  believe 
we  shall  have  a  look-in  !  We  're  just  jumping  in  our 
skins  to  get  a  pot  at  something.  Look  at  the  way  the 
fellows  tumbled  to  the  Benin  expedition  !  But  we 
shall  be  held  back  next  time,  I  am  afraid." 

"  There  is  room  for  all ! "  said  Crofton,  briefly. 

When  luncheon  was  over,  they  went  up  on  deck  to 
leave  the  blue-jackets  room  to  clear.  Joey's  dining- 
room  was  some  twelve  feet  by  ten  at  its  broadest,  and 
sloped  to  nothing  at  its  farthest  end ;  the  round  table 
and  the  guests  pretty  well  filled  it,  and  it  required  the 
alert  deftness  of  naval  training  to  avoid  charging  into 
the  fern  pots  peacefully  mounted  in  the  empty  spaces 
from  which  he  had  removed  the  guns,  or  backing  into 
treasures  gathered  from  the  Seven  Seas  and  strewed 
around  the  cabin.  There  was  not  much  more  space 
on  deck,  but  the  women  disposed  themselves  in  chairs, 
while  the  men  leaned  on  the  rails,  and  the  world,  as 
viewed  from  the  trim  gun-boat,  looked  a  little  space 
compact  of  sunshine,  a  blue  bay,  and  a  strip  of  shore 
with  toy  houses. 

"  How  this  thing  does  dance  !  "  said  Madge,  laugh- 
ing, as  the  Skate  jogged  merrily  in  the  swell.  "  Oh,  I 
am  glad  I  have  n't  got  to  take  a  voyage  in  her  !  I  am  a 
terribly  poor  sailor.  There  is  a  line  of  Kipling's  which 
always  fills  me  with  a  giddy  horror  even  to  read  — 

" '  The  kick  of  the  screw  beneath  me,  and  the  round  blue  seas 
outside  I ' 

Is  n't  it  awful  ?  " 

"Is  n't  he  a  favourite  of  yours  ?  "  V.  C.  asked  in  his 
cross  sympathetic  voice.  "I  suppose  women  dislike 
him  because  he  always  hits  their  weak  points  !  " 

"What  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Cayley?  I  am  sure  it  is 
something  nasty  from  the  satisfaction  of  your  tone  ! " 

"  Never  mind  my  tone,  listen  to  this  — 


236  The  Story  of  Eden 

" '  A  fool  there  was,  and  he  made  his  prayer  — 

(Even  as  you  and  I !) 
To  a  rag  and  a  bone  and  a  hank  of  hair  I  * 

That 's  what  you  all  are  !  Rags  and  bones  and  hanks 
of  hair,  and  then  men  fall  down  and  worship  you." 

"  I  am  sure  I  am  not !  Mrs.  Redmayne,  do  come 
to  the  rescue  !  Mr.  Cayley  says  I  am  an  ill-dressed 
skeleton,  and  my  hair  is  like  tow.  Yes,  I  know  that  is 
what  you  mean,  Mr.  Cayley,  though  you  mask  it  under 
Kipling." 

"I  don't  care  for  Kipling  nowadays,"  said  Mrs. 
Redmayne.  "  He  is  so  like  the  Salvation  Army  — 
when  he  is  not  banging  on  a  drum,  he  is  talking  very 
loud  about  God." 

"  I  asked  Mr.  Ames  if  he  told  the  truth  about  the 
Army,"  remarked  Polly.  "  He  has  been  through  the 
ranks,  you  know  —  Mr.  Ames,  not  Kipling.  He  says 
it  was  as  much  truth  as  it  was  good  for  the  Public  to 
know ! " 

"  When  Ames  is  clever  I  always  go  and  smoke,"  re- 
marked V.  C.,  dryly.  "  It  is  the  only  thing  to  do  with 
some  men.  Miss  Cunningham,  what  are  you  thinking 
about?  You  have  not  spoken  for  three  minutes." 

"That's  unusual  for  me!"  said  Madge,  good-na- 
turedly. "  I  was  thinking  that  it  would  be  nice  to 
make  things  stand  still  sometimes.  I  don't  want  to  go 
back,  —  "  her  pause  was  no  more  perceptible  than  her 
shudder,  —  "  but  somehow  I  don't  want  to  go  forward. 
Perhaps  if  I  could  be  sure  that  I  should  remain  the 
same  mentally,  1  would  not  care  about  a  physical 
change." 

"  Mental  experience  is  really  the  only  experience 
with  any  power  to  change  you,"  said  V.  C.,  from  the 
wilderness  of  a  man's  ignorance. 

"Do  you  think  so?"  returned  Madge,  quietly.  "I 
am  not  a  lover  of  change  at  any  time.  Once  I  am 
comfortably  settled  I  don't  want  to  be  uprooted." 


The  Story  of  Eden  237 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that,  for  I  am  going  to  uproot  you 
now,"  said  Mrs.  Redmayne,  rising.  "  No  tea,  thanks, 
Mr.  Tullock.  It  gets  dark  so  early  at  this  time  of  the 
year  that  I  want  to  get  back." 

"  Don't  put  your  sunshade  up  in  the  boat  going 
across,  please ! "  Joey  pleaded,  "  or  we  shall  be 
hauled  up  by  our  Martinet.  He  is  a  very  dragon  on 
etiquette." 

"Isn't  that  etiquette?  It  seems  to  me  far  more 
improper  that  I  should  have  a  freckled  nose  !  But 
I  remember  his  characteristic  —  Mrs.  Thurston  told 
me.  He  offered  her  his  gig  one  day  to  take  her  out 
to  call  on  Mrs.  A'Court  on  the  Druid,  and  it  came  on 
to  rain.  Mrs.  Thurston  looked  at  him,  and  said 
meekly,  'May  I  put  up  my  umbrella,  please?'  He 
could  n't  say  No,  it  was  so  wet,  and  then  was  seen  the 
dread  spectacle  of  the  Martinet  with  a  lady  in  his  own 
gig,  with  an  umbrella  up.  The  whole  Bay  laughed 
over  it." 

"  Serve  him  right  for  having  theories.  Good-bye, 
Miss  Cunningham  !  Hope  we  shall  see  you  on  board 
again,"  and  with  a  truly  naval  pressure  of  her  hand,  the 
new  Commander  helped  his  guest  down  the  ladder  and 
into  the  boat. 

"  What  a  jolly  day  we  have  had  ! "  Madge  said,  as 
they  went  homewards.  "  I  always  wish  I  had  belong- 
ings in  the  Navy  after  a  visit  to  Simon's  Town.  They 
are  such  nice  fellows  !  " 

"  We  are  a  very  harmonious  party,"  Cissie  agreed. 
"  Do  you  like  V.  C.  ?  I  saw  you  talking  to  him." 

"I  have  liked  him  for  about  six  weeks,"  Madge  said 
cordially.  "  He  wants  knowing." 

"  He  used  to  be  a  great  chum  of  mine,  but  I  dropped 
him  because  my  husband  misapplied  the  situation," 
said  Mrs.  Redmayne,  quietly.  "  V.  C.  is  not  very  com- 
prehensible to  men,  out  of  the  saddle,  and  they  do  not 
understand  his  being  so  to  women*  It  was  very  stupid 


23  8  The  Story  of  Eden 

of  Ned,  but  it  was  not  worth  hammering  an  explana- 
tion into  his  brain,  so  I  sacrificed  the  acquaintance.  I 
am  always  sorry  over  again  when  I  meet  V.  C.  He 
was  one  companion  in  a  hundred." 

"  I  have  no  husband,  so  I  can  continue  to  cultivate 
him,"  said  Madge.  Words  sometimes  slipped  from 
her  as  easily  as  laughter,  and  she  rarely  paused  to  re- 
gret them.  She  and  Crofton  parted  from  Mrs.  Red- 
mayne  at  the  Wynberg  Station,  and  drove  home  to 
Vine  Lodge.  It  was  quite  dark,  and  the  electric  lights 
gleamed  like  jewels  along  the  lawless  roads  which  main- 
tained their  air  of  being  uncivilised  after  daylight,  in 
spite  of  the  gleaming  lamps.  Margery  felt  every  rustle 
in  the  dark  firs,  and  the  beat  of  the  pony's  feet  on  the 
soft  road  sounded  like  an  alarm  signal.  She  did  not 
notice  Crofton's  silence,  or  feel  any  presage  of  ap- 
proaching Fate,  —  she  was  indeed  rather  glad  of  his 
presence  in  the  nervous  dusk.  She  shivered  physically, 
but  all  her  mental  faculties  were  lulled  with  pleasant 
memories  of  the  empty,  happy  day,  and  the  easy 
society  of  people  whom  she  knew  so  intimately  that 
there  was  no  conventional  restraint  possible  between 
them. 

It  was  nearly  dinner-time  when  they  reached  home, 
and  she  changed  her  gown  with  her  usual  interest  in 
her  own  adornment.  It  was  a  small  daintiness  that 
she  loved,  and  she  was  as  concerned  over  her  personal 
appearance  for  the  benefit  of  her  brother  and  Crofton 
as  she  would  have  been  for  a  dinner  at  Government 
House.  There  was  a  fire  in  the  drawing-room,  for  the 
nights  were  very  cold,  and  after  dinner  she  and  Crof- 
ton resorted  thither,  as  they  generally  did  while  the 
Professor  slumbered.  Madge  did  not  turn  on  the  elec- 
tric light  as  usual ;  there  was  a  bright  glow  from  the 
logs,  and  she  sauntered  over  to  the  fire,  and  stood  in 
front  of  it,  glancing  at  herself  mechanically  in  the 
mantel  glass,  and  still  without  suspicion  of  the  next 


The  Story  of  Eden  239 

moment's  crisis.  Crofton  followed  her  deliberately, 
and  stood  facing  her  as  Vibart  had  done  on  the  day 
that  they  parted. 

"  You  said  something  to-day  of  which  I  want  to  re- 
mind you,"  he  said.  Margery  turned  from  the  glass 
and  looked  at  him  in  some  surprise ;  but  she  was 
accustomed  to  his  way  of  taking  her  lightest  speeches 
in  deadly  earnest  at  times,  and  resenting  them  as  some- 
thing personal.  She  generally  laughed  him  out  of  it, 
and  it  hardly  troubled  her. 

"Well,  what  was  it?"  she  said. 

"  When  you  said  on  deck  that  you  wished  you  could 
stand  still,  you  did  not  want  things  to  alter,  you  were 
referring  to  me?" 

"  To  you  !  "  she  repeated  blankly.  "  How  could 
I  be,  Mr.  Crofton?  I  was  not  thinking  of  you  in  the 
least." 

"I  thought  you  meant  the  condition  of  things  be- 
tween us,"  he  said  relentlessly.  "  You  know  as  well  as 
I  do,  that  it  cannot  stop  as  it  is.  We  must  go  on. 
There  is  no  limit  to  the  growth  of  feeling  between  a 
man  and  a  woman.  You  cannot  stay  such  a  thing  be- 
cause you  hesitate  and  wish  to  pause  at  one  point." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Her  eyes  met  his  across  the  firelight.  The  direct 
compelling  gaze  she  had  always  recognised  as  a  char- 
acteristic of  his  held  her  like  a  vice.  "  Do  you 
mean — "  she  stammered.  "Are  you  telling  me  — 
What  do  you  mean?" 

"  Yes,  that !  "  he  said.  It  was  plain  he  was  control- 
ling himself  grandly.  He  did  not  come  a  step  nearer, 
or  attempt  to  reach  her,  yet  his  whole  figure  was 
tense  with  passion.  "I  —  love  you  !  "  he  said  baldly. 
"  You  need  n't  be  afraid  —  I  won't  touch  you  till  you 
tell  me  I  may." 

But  the  few  brief  words  had  struck  Margery  into 
stony  silence,  as  completely  as  if  she  had  looked  upon 


240  The  Story  of  Eden 

the  head  of  Medusa.  If  the  ground  had  yawned  sud- 
denly at  her  feet,  —  if  some  horrible  disaster  had  para- 
lysed her  with  its  unexpectedness,  —  she  could  not 
have  been  taken  more  unawares.  Just  as  once  before, 
the  little  light  veil  of  trivial  things  that  she  had  thrown 
over  her  life  was  wrenched  aside  to  show  her  raw 
reality  beneath.  She  stood  there  dumb,  battling  with 
the  dread  that  at  last  she  had  to  face  the  consequences 
of  her  own  free-will,  and  in  the  pause  he  put  her  dread 
into  words. 

"Would  you  be  afraid  to  be  my  wife?  Have  I 
spoken  too  roughly?" 

Again  she  fought  for  words,  and  this  time  they  came. 
"  I  cannot  marry  you.  I  am  sorry  that  you  should 
have  thought  of  it,"  she  said  with  a  coldness  that 
sounded  to  her  own  ears  hideous. 

He  drew  his  brows  together,  half  in  pain,  half  in  the 
opposition  with  which  he  had  met  and  overcome  the 
misfortunes  and  disadvantages  of  his  life  hitherto. 
Margery's  breast  rose  and  fell  quickly  with  the  terror 
of  her  own  position.  If  he  knew  the  truth  !  If  he 
could  only  guess  what  the  woman  whom  he  wished  to 
make  his  wife  had  already  experienced  !  —  for  the  first 
time  she  saw  herself  plainly  as  a  living  lie ;  it  had 
seemed  hitherto  entirely  her  own  secret,  a  phase  in  her 
existence  for  which  she  was  responsible  to  no  one  but 
herself.  Now,  in  a  flash,  she  saw  that  she  represented 
another  thing  than  she  had  the  right  to  represent  in 
men's  minds.  She  was  a  possible  wife  to  them,  —  she 
had  set  herself  honestly  apart  from  any  such  possibility 
in  her  own  mind.  And  she  could  do  nothing  to  warn 
them  away  from  the  mistake.  Indeed,  the  dread  of  a 
guess  being  made  as  to  her  motive  of  refusal  made  her 
red  and  white  by  turns,  and  she  glanced  furtively  at 
Crofton  with  a  panic-stricken  desire  to  soften  her  un- 
compromising words  that  he  might  not  light  upon  their 
true  meaning.  But  he  had  no  slightest  suspicion  of 


The  Story  of  Eden  241 

the  jarring  tumult  in  her  mind,  or  her  giddy  sensation  of 
disaster.  There  were  not  two  yards  between  them,  but 
the  force  which  holds  humanity  separate  and  individual 
is  mightier  than  thousands  of  miles.  All  he  observed 
was  that  her  fair  soft  face  was  rather  grave  as  she  stood 
looking  down  into  the  red  coals.  Her  mind  was  as 
secret  from  his  as  if  they  inhabited  different  spheres. 

"  I  have  never  thought  of  you  as  anything  but  a 
friend,"  she  said  with  an  effort  to  keep  her  voice  steady 
that  was  piteous.  "  I  am  very,  very  sorry  if  I  have 
caused  you  any  —  any  disappointment ;  but  you  have 
really  taken  me  absolutely  by  surprise." 

"You  mean  that  you  don't  care  for  me,"  he  said 
abruptly. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  catching  at  the  excuse  with  relief. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  have  troubled  you  —  as  I  can  see  I 
have  !  "  he  said  after  a  breath.  "  Will  you  still  look 
upon  me  as  a  friend?  It  seems  rather  hard  that  be- 
cause I  wanted  more,  I  should  lose  even  that  that  I 
had.  Please  forget  what  I  —  what  I  said,  and  we  will 
let  everything  be  as  it  was  before." 

She  drew  a  sigh  of  relief  that  was  almost  a  sob,  and 
willingly  laid  her  hand  in  the  one  he  held  out.  He 
clasped  it  for  a  moment  closely,  and  then  loosening  his 
hold  he  bent  his  head  and  kissed  it  with  a  certain  air 
of  reverence  that  made  her  heart  throb  with  absolute 
pain.  It  struck  her  vividly  that  she  had  never  before 
been  treated  with  such  absolute  respect,  and  a  woman, 
however  much  she  may  be  carried  away  by  a  display 
of  less  restrained  feelings,  likes  to  meet  with  respect 
some  time  in  her  life,  and  prizes  it  jealously. 

"  Yes,  we  will  be  just  the  same  as  before,"  she  said 
mechanically ;  but  she  knew  in  her  own  mind  that  it 
could  never  be  the  same  as  before.  Moreover  the  dis- 
turbing of  the  calm  serenity  with  which  she  regarded 
their  relations  to  each  other,  had  raised  a  new  fear  in 
her  mind.  She  thought  with  panic  dread  that  this 
16 


242  The  Story  of  Eden 

might  have  happened  at  any  time,  —  with  Truman, 
with  Forrester,  with  any  of  the  men  she  had  known 
intimately.  As  if  her  eyes  were  suddenly  opened,  she 
saw  the  danger  lurking  round  her  at  every  step,  while 
she  had  gone  gaily  on,  treading  at  the  edge  of  a  preci- 
pice. Supposing  there  had  been  nothing  in  the  way 
of  these  men  marrying,  as  there  was  nothing  in  Crof- 
ton's,  —  no  question  of  means,  or  family  ties  (she 
guessed  hurriedly  at  possible  barriers  with  which  she 
had  never  concerned  herself) ,  this  terrible  facing  her- 
self in  the  hard  light  of  the  World's  opinion  might  have 
come  upon  her  at  any  moment.  It  had  not  seemed 
until  now  a  very  serious  thing  that  she  had  done,  — 
she  had  comforted  herself  with  the  poor  excuse  that 
like  stories  were  hinted  of  half  the  women  she  knew. 
They  might  be  just  as  true,  —  according  to  Vibart's 
creed  it  was  an  amiable  weakness,  too  general  to  count 
as  a  crime.  Sometimes,  on  looking  back,  she  felt  as  if 
she  had  assisted  at  a  tragedy,  through  which  she 
had  always  heard  the  band  play.  There  had  been  ludi- 
crous incidents  which  had  appealed  to  both  hers  and 
Vibart's  sense  of  humour,  and  she  had  even  laughed 
over  them  in  remembrance.  The  only  thing  from 
which  she  had  shrunk  had  been  the  after-realisation  of 
vulgarity ;  but  she  had  put  it  out  of  her  mind  as  a 
thing  which  was  done  and  could  not  be  helped,  and  it 
had  not  troubled  her  careless  ephemeral  life  with  more 
than  a  passing  cloud.  On  the  whole,  her  fault  had 
been  a  trivial  experience  which  she  could  hardly  call 
by  so  hard  a  name,  in  the  light  of  Vibart's  teaching. 
Now  the  strength  of  its  result,  the  influence  it  was  to 
have  upon  all  her  future,  loomed  up  suddenly,  and  she 
cowered,  aghast  at  such  a  spectre  of  her  past  self. 

It  was  an  uneasy  evening  Margery  turned  on  the 
electric  light,  and  they  had  some  music  But  even  the 
matter-of-fact  lighted  room,  which  with  hci  fa*&  in 
material  details  she  had  hoped  would  dispel  the  fireli\ 


The  Story  of  Eden  243 

atmosphere  of  the  last  half  hour,  could  not  bring  back 
her  old  security.  Crofton  was  more  at  his  ease  than 
she ;  he  was  much  as  usual,  and  while  she  congratu- 
lated herself  on  his  taking  her  decision  so  tractably,  she 
saw  nothing  ominous  in  his  acquiescence.  But  though 
she  went  to  bed  early,  she  endurtd  the  most  unusual 
torture,  for  her,  of  a  broken  night,  and  hour  after  hour 
her  defenceless  conscience  faced  whole  armies  of  accu- 
sations which  had  never  attacked  it  before.  In  that 
first  experience  of  retribution,  she  suffered  perhaps 
more  than  at  any  after  time;  for  she  was  taken 
unawares,  and  had  prepared  no  argument  in  her  own 
extenuation. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

"  Choose  one  of  whom  your  grosser  make  "  — 
(God  in  the  Garden  laughed  outright)  — 

"  The  true  refining  touch  may  take 

Till  both  attain  to  Life's  last  height" 

THE  return  of  the  Dodds  was  the  herald  of  quite  a 
burst  of  festivity  in  the  neighbourhood.  Johnnie  had 
taken  his  wife  and  daughter  Home  in  the  preceding 
summer,  —  that  is,  in  December,  —  and  six  months'  ab- 
sence has  made  Wynberg  think  that  it  could  hardly  do 
without  him.  He  was  large  in  every  sense  of  the 
word,  and  he  left  a  large  hole  behind  him  when  he 
pranced  out  into  the  world  from  his  own  particular 
corner  of  it. 

"  Had  a  ripping  time  !  "  said  Johnnie,  his  high  voice 
squeaking  with  enthusiasm.  "  Damned  old  country, 
England,  and  slow,  but  there  's  everything  ready  to  your 
hand.  You  can  have  a  new  suit  of  clothes  by  pulling 
a  bell,  and  there 's  always  a  means  of  conveyance  wait- 
ing round  the  corner." 

"  Dad  never  would  walk  a  step,  —  it  was  awfully  bad 
for  him.  Don't  you  think  he  is  visibly  stouter  ? " 
Starling  said  to  Madge.  "  We  had  a  very  good  time. 
What  have  you  been  doing  here?" 

"Oh,  the  usual  round!  I  am  so  glad  that  you  are 
back,  Star  !  I  missed  you  awfully.  So  did  True." 

"  Oh,  True  !  "  Starling  lifted  her  chin.  "  He  was 
inconsolable  for  a  fortnight,  I  suppose,  just  as  a  pic- 
turesque attitude.  And  then  you  consoled  him  !  " 

"  Well,  I  did  my  best !  "  Madge  admitted.  "  But  I 
have  n't  seen  so  much  of  him  lately,  somehow.  We  've 
had  a  man  staying  in  the  house  —  " 

"  Poor  True  !  "  said  Starling,  rather  dryly. 

"True  didn't  care  —  you  know   he   never  does." 


The  Story  of  Eden  245 

This  was  a  comfortable  maxim,  and  worthy  of  all  be- 
lief in  her  mind.  "  He  used  to  come  and  help  enter- 
tain. He  has  n't  been  lately,  because  the  Duke's  have 
gone  out  to  Simon's  Town.  Is  n't  it  a  pity  !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Starling.  "  I  suppose  so  —  for  some 
of  us.  Is  Mr.  Forrester  back  yet?  We  rather  hoped 
he  would  come  in  the  same  boat  with  us." 

"  Yes,  his  leave  was  up  in  April  —  he  has  been  back 
some  time.  Oh,  they  've  got  a  new  boy,  Starling,  and 
he  is  quite  a  success,  much  more  so  than  that  last 
Henderson  thing  whom  Silence  Wright  and  the  Brawler 
used  to  torment.  This  boy  joined  from  India,  and  is 
not  entirely  callow  !  He  is  a  great  friend  of  mine,  and 
I  was  very  sorry  when  he  was  moved  to  Simon's  Town. 
He  used  to  warn  off  about  three  times  a  week  and  dine 
with  us,  and  the  Colonel  got  quite  stuffy  over  it !  It 
was  such  fun." 

"  What  is  his  name  ?  " 

"  Miles  Mowbray —  every  one  knows  him  as  the  Mow- 
bray  boy.  He  is  deliciously  impertinent !  What  do  you 
think  he  said  because  I  went  over  to  Simon's  Town 
once  and  lunched  with  Joey  Tullock  at  the  Hotel?" 

"  I  wonder  Simon's  Town  did  n't  say  something ! 
Well?" 

"  He  said  Anthony  did  n't  look  after  me  properly, 
and  if  he  were  in  charge  he  should  be  much  more 
strict !  I  did  laugh  so  !  He  is  such  a  dear  boy  you 
can't  be  cross ;  but  was  n't  it  cool  ?  " 

Madge  was  talking  quickly,  instinctively  shrinking 
from  a  question  she  knew  must  come,  and  hoping  to 
distract  Starling  from  her  brief  remark  about  "  A  man 
staying  with  them."  But  Starling  had  a  tenacity  of  her 
own,  and  a  motive  for  inquiry. 

"  Who  is  this  man  you  said  was  staying  with  you, 
Madge  ?  "  She  nearly  said,  "  Who  cut  out  True  ?  "  but 
refrained. 

"Oh,  a  Johannesburgher  whose  acquaintance  An- 


246  The  Story  of  Eden 

thony  made  Up  Country  ages  ago.  His  name  is 
Crofton,  and  he  is  rather  nice,"  said  Madge,  with  scru- 
pulous care  not  to  overstep  the  truth  on  either  side  in 
her  description. 

"  A  Johannesburg  man  !  I  wonder  if  Dad  knows 
him?" 

"  I  don't  think  so,  he  has  not  lived  at  Doornfontein 
long.  He  is  well  off,  and  has  bought  the  Rosary." 

"  Oh,  is  he  settling  here  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"Is  he  married?"  said  Starling.  Her  soft  expres- 
sive eyes  dwelt  on  Margery  thoughtfully. 

"  No  !  —  he  will  do  nicely  for  Polly  Harbord,  or  — 
you  ! " 

"  Or  you  ! "  retorted  Starling. 

"  No,  I  am  too  devoted  to  the  Mowbray  boy  !  " 

Starling  laughed,  "  Bring  Mr.  Crofton  to  be  in- 
spected, if  you  like,"  she  said.  "  Oh,  I  forgot  to  tell 
you,  Madge,  we  met  Mr.  Livingston  in  London." 

"  No !  did  you  ?  How  is  he  ?  I  hope  you  gave  him 
my  love  !  Is  he  coming  out  again?" 

"  I  don't  know.  He  was  very  amusing  as  usual,  and  we 
went  about  with  him  a  good  deal.  He  gave  us  tea  at 
the  New,  and  wanted  to  take  me  to  dinners  at  restaurants 
innumerable.  He  said  that  London  was  the  place  par 
excellence  to  do  as  one  liked,  if  one  only  had  the  moral 
courage  ! " 

"  I  suppose  he  meant  immoral  courage.  How  like 
Beau  !  Did  you  go  ?  " 

"  No,  Mother  was  against  it,  and  I  did  n't  much 
want  to." 

"  So  he  told  you  that  you  had  no  moral  courage,  I 
suppose  ?  " 

"  Well,  no,  I  appropriated  the  other  part  of  his  state- 
ment, and  explained  that  I  was  doing  as  I  liked  in  de- 
clining the  invitation  !  He  said  he  wished  you  had 
been  there  —  you  would  have  enjoyed  yourself  so 
thoroughly." 


The  Story  of  Eden  247 

"  I  certainly  should,  and  I  should  have  done  all  the 
wicked  things  he  asked  me,  so  it  is  just  as  well  that  I 
was  not.  I  '11  bring  Mr.  Crofton  round  to-morrow,  if  I 
can  catch  him,  Starling.  He  is  very  busy  just  now  buy- 
ing land  round  Constantia.  He  is  taking  up  wine  farming 
as  a  hobby,  I  think,  as  he  has  retired  from  business." 

"  What  was  he  ?  " 

"  Oh,  a  perfect  procession  of  trades  !  He  told  us 
the  other  night,  and  made  us  laugh.  He  was  farming 
when  Anthony  knew  him,  and  he  came  out  as  an  engi- 
neer. He  has  tried  ostriches,  and  at  one  time  he  ran 
a  Hotel  Up  Country.  He  says  that  paid  him  best,  be- 
cause there  was  n't  another  within  sixty  miles,  so  he 
charged  what  he  chose  !  I  fancy  he  made  money 
over  that,  and  speculated  at  Johannesburg,  and  was 
fortunate." 

"  The  real  achievement  was  leaving  off  speculating 
when  he  had  made  money  !  They  so  seldom  do.  I 
wonder  he  could  resist  losing  it  again  ! " 

"  You  would  n't  wonder  if  you  knew  him.  He  is  the 
right  sort  of  person  to  succeed.  What  portion  of  him 
is  n't  iron  will,  seems  to  be  dogged  persistence." 

Margery  had  some  cause  for  her  point  of  view  with 
regard  to  Crofton,  for  her  dismayed  senses  were  slowly 
and  surely  realising  how  very  far  he  was  from  the  quiet 
acceptance  of  her  refusal  on  which  she  had  at  first  con- 
gratulated herself.  The  few  days  which  he  had  origi- 
nally mentioned  as  the  limit  of  his  stay  had  lengthened 
into  a  few  weeks,  and  still  he  showed  no  hurry  to  de- 
part. Worse  still,  the  Professor  seemed  quite  resigned 
to  his  presence,  and  did  not  even  hint  at  his  leaving, 
which  hampered  Margery  still  further,  —  if  her  brother 
made  his  guest  welcome,  she  could  not  raise  an  objec- 
tion. It  was  she  who  had,  in  the  first  place,  insisted 
on  his  being  invited,  —  a  fact  of  which  the  Professor 
would  stormily  remind  her,  as  she  knew,  if  she  sug- 
gested that  Crofton  was  in  the  way  when  he  found  his 


248  The  Story  of  Eden 

company  congenial  in  the  slightest  degree.  Yet  she 
really  wished  he  would  go,  —  his  presence  distracted 
her,  and  made  an  undercurrent  to  the  smooth  flow  of 
her  surface  life  of  which  she  hardly  dared  to  think. 
The  more  she  considered  the  matter  seriously,  the  more 
she  was  convinced  that  marriage  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion for  her,  and  she  must  not  even  listen  to  a  sug- 
gestion of  it.  "At  least,  not  for  years,"  added  her 
elastic  nature,  prone  to  recover  itself  in  time,  however 
severe  the  fall.  But  in  Crofton's  case  it  was  certainly 
out  of  the  question,  —  a  fact  she  tried  vainly  to  impress 
on  him  without  putting  it  into  words,  and  which  he 
met  with  an  equally  wordless  but  flat  denial.  The 
worst  of  it  was,  that  she  felt,  uneasily,  how  he  was  mak- 
ing himself  a  place  in  her  life,  and  that  in  consequence 
she  must  suffer  keenly  when  he  dropped  out  of  it 
Margery  was  very  feminine,  —  she  liked  small  attentions, 
she  liked  to  be  approved,  and  to  read  pleasure  and  ad- 
miration in  the  eyes  that  looked  at  her,  and  she  liked 
above  all  to  know  that  she  was  the  first  consideration 
in  somebody's  mind.  They  were  just  the  little  things 
that  she  prized  the  more  for  having  to  go  consistently 
without  them  in  her  dealings  with  her  brother.  It  was 
in  instinctive  search  of  such  domestic  courtesies  —  the 
mental  sunshine  in  which  to  warm  herself —  that  she 
had  been  driven  into  Vibart's  snare.  But  on  the  whole, 
she  did  not  want  a  violent  demonstration  of  feeling  so 
much  as  the  little  civilities  of  everyday  life.  In  the 
first  flush  of  her  vitality,  she  had  met  and  responded  to 
the  passion  of  the  moment,  but  it  did  not  attract  her 
more  matured  nature.  The  gentleness  of  Crofton's 
iron  self-restraint  made  his  very  touch  pleasant  to  her, 
and  she  realised  how  dear  his  silently  promised  ten- 
derness would  have  been  —  and  yet  she  must  not 
accept  it. 

"  I  shall  suffer  —  but  I  suppose  I  deserve  to  suffer," 
she  said  to  herself  with  hardening  mouth  and  shrink- 


The  Story  of  Eden  249 

ing  senses.  Then  the  old  plea  of  Womanhood  rose  to 
her  mind,  "  Why  should  the  man  come  off  scot  free, 
and  the  woman  take  all  the  penitence?  If  Jack's 
wife  died,  he  would  be  regarded  as  an  eligible  bachelor, 
—  no  one  would  dream  of  raising  his  past  sins  against 
him  !  It  is  only  I  who  must  pay  the  penalty  for  us 
both." 

She  had  her  fits  of  remorse  too,  during  which  the 
feeling  that  she  was  deceiving  Crofton,  as  the  typical 
Man  who  looked  upon  her  as  a  possible  wife,  made  her 
feverishly  anxious  to  atone  in  some  sort  by  forfeiting 
her  chance  to  such  a  position.  She  introduced  him  to 
half  the  girls  she  knew,  and  tried  to  sing  their  praises 
honestly  in  his  ears,  and  to  forward  the  affair,  if  he 
showed  the  least  sign  of  being  attracted.  With  Star- 
ling he  was  soon  firm  friends,  somewhat  to  Madge's 
surprise,  and  she  heroically  did  her  best  to  throw  them 
together  and  shut  her  eyes  and  ears  to  her  own  grow- 
ing reluctance.  Crofton  seemed  in  this  case  not  un- 
willing ;  he  found  points  of  mutual  interest  with  Mr. 
Johnnie,  and  was  made  free  of  Friedenhof,  and  Mar- 
gery scourged  herself  mentally  for  her  resentful  accept- 
ance of  the  fact  that  he  often  called  there  without  her, 
and  did  penance  by  inventing  errands  and  messages 
for  him  to  leave  with  Starling. 

"  I  cannot  go  to  Friedenhof  this  afternoon,"  she 
said  deliberately,  after  a  hard-fought  battle  with  her 
own  jealousy.  "  Mrs.  Cromo  Dame  is  coming  to  tea. 
But  I  do  want  that  book  returned." 

"  Where  is  it?  "  he  said  with  alacrity.  "  I  am  going 
down  to  the  Rosary  to  see  how  they  are  getting  on,  and 
I  can  call  on  my  way  back." 

"  Here  it  is  —  "  She  held  out  "  Tess  of  the  D'Ur- 
bevilles "  to  him  bravely.  "  Will  you  tell  Starling 
that  I  liked  it  — very  much." 

"Did  you?"  he  said  turning  the  pages.  "Ah!  I 
remember  it  now  —  do  you  think  she  was  right  to  marry 
that  prig?" 


250  The  Story  of  Eden 

Margery  drew  a  long  breath.  The  similarity  of  her 
position  with  Tess's  had  struck  her,  of  course  ;  also  its 
essential  dissimilarity  in  the  one  redeeming  point,  that 
in  her  own  case  no  one  knew  or  could  prove  her  guilt 
—  indeed,  as  far  as  she  knew,  it  had  gone  unsuspected 
by  the  world  around.  "  I  think  —  having  married 
him  —  that  she  should  never  have  told  ! "  she  said, 
avoiding  the  real  drift  of  his  question.  "  She  should 
never  have  told,  —  that  is  just  where  the  weakness  of 
the  uneducated  classes  comes  in.  Had  she  been 
Angel  Clare's  social  equal,  she  would  not  have  made 
such  a  mistake." 

"You  think  that  education  induces  deceit?" 

"  I  think  it  sometimes  eliminates  utter  folly  !  What 
good  did  it  do  either  of  them  that  she  told  him?  It 
proved  him  a  cowardly  hypocrite,  and  ended  in  a 
tragedy  for  her!  There,  go  away — I  don't  want 
to  discuss  Tess  with  any  one.  I  felt  the  book  too 
much." 

He  laughed  a  little  at  her  apparently  causeless  pet- 
tishness,  and  turned  away  with  the  book  in  his  hand. 
At  the  door  he  hesitated,  and  then  deliberately  came 
back  to  her. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  re-open  a  subject  which  I  know 
you  wished  closed,"  he  said  in  a  different  tone.  Mar- 
gery started  and  glanced  up  at  him  with  fear  quicken- 
ing the  expression  of  her  eyes.  "  I  only  wanted  to 
ask  you  —  was  your  objection  to  me  based  on  another 
preference  ?  " 

"You  mean  —  is  there  any  one  else?" 

"I  mean  has  another  man  been  before  me?" 

"  No ! "  she  said  deliberately,  and  her  pulses 
throbbed  to  the  shock  of  her  own  lie. 

"  Thank  you.  Then  it  is  only  that  you  don't  care 
forme?" 

"  Yes." 

"  That  is,  of  course,  an  insuperable  barrier !  "  he  said. 


The  Story  of  Eden  251 

She  did  not  look  up,  or  translate  his  tone  in  any  way. 
Her  fair  soft  head  was  bent  over  the  paper  she  was 
reading,  and  she  merely  said,  "  Yes  !  "  again.  Then  he 
turned  and  went  in  earnest. 

As  the  door  closed  behind  him,  she  turned  with  a 
curious  stiff  motion  and  watched  him,  out  of  the  win- 
dow, walking  away  in  the  sunshine.  Not  until  he  was 
out  of  view,  did  she  suddenly  bury  her  face  in  the  cush- 
ions behind  her  and  tremble  with  the  passion  of  her 
own  feeling. 

"  He  is  going  to  her !  —  he  asked  me  again  to  be 
quite  sure  —  to  have  it  off  his  conscience  that  he 
changed  without  cause.  Now  he  is  going  to  Starling 
—  and  I  can't  be  glad  !  Oh,  I  can't  be  glad  !  -  I  am 
only  jealous  —  miserably,  meanly  jealous,  because  I  can't 
have  what  she  can  —  and  it  is  all  my  own  fault !  " 

She  sat  up,  and  clasping  her  small  strong  hands  behind 
her  head,  set  her  teeth,  staring  out  before  her  with 
miserable  wide-open  eyes,  bluer  than  the  gay  plumbago 
hedges,  as  blue  as  the  hot  African  sky.  Ten  minutes 
later  she  got  up  and  shook  herself  with  a  little  fierce 
movement.  Then  she  went  upstairs  to  change  her 
gown,  mindful  that  Mrs.  Cromo  Dame  was  coming,  — 
she  had  asked  her  purposely  to  provide  an  excuse  for 
not  going  herself  to  Friedenhof. 

When  the  widow  was  shown  into  the  drawing-room, 
one  rustle  of  silk  and  breath  of  heavy  scent,  she  found 
Margery  sitting  by  the  pretty  tea-table,  which  was  drawn 
up  to  the  fire.  The  afternoon  had  turned  cold  and 
cloudy,  as  it  does  in  August  after  the  most  brilliant 
mornings,  and  the  wind  sounded  like  artillery  among 
the  firs. 

"  It  is  blowing  in  a  filthy  fashion  !  "  Blanche  Cromo 
Dame  said  as  she  kissed  her  hostess.  She  had  a  shrewd, 
cordial  liking  for  Margery,  to  which  the  latter  had  of  late 
responded.  "  How  cosy  you  look  !  I  am  quite  thank- 
ful to  get  indoors.  It  must  be  awful  in  Cape  Town  — 
rocks  blowing  about !  " 


252  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  The  only  thing  to  be  thankful  for  is  that  it  won't 
rain  so  long  as  this  wind  holds.  Do  loosen  your 
furs,  Mrs.  Cromo  Dame,  —  you  will  take  cold  driving 
home." 

Blanche  threw  off  her  wraps  and  stretched  out  her 
plump  pointed  fingers  to  the  fire.  She  had  very  pretty 
hands,  with  pink  palms  and  filbert  nails  ;  but  they  could 
never  have  belonged  to  an  immaculate  woman.  They 
were  the  hands  of  a  courtesan,  though  she  were  openly 
proved  to  have  just  passed  through  the  marriage 
ceremony. 

"  What  pretty  biscuits  !  Did  you  get  them  at  Dix's  ?  " 
she  said.  "  I  was  there  yesterday,  and  they  never 
showed  me  anything  as  toothsome." 

"  No,  my  cook  makes  these,  under  strict  superintend- 
ence !  By  the  way,  has  Mrs.  Savage  Smith  got  a  girl 
yet?" 

"  Mrs.  who  ?  Oh,  you  mean  Mrs.  Fierse-Jones.  That 
was  Mr.  Forrester's  joke,  was  n't  it.  What  a  smart  boy 
he  is  !  You  know  he  called  me  the  Hand-painted  Lady 
when  he  first  came  out?  "  Blanche  was  not  reticent. 

"  I  heard  it  —  you  are  very  good-natured  to  take  it 
as  you  do  !  I  wonder  any  one  repeated  it  to  you." 

"  Lilla  Montfort,  —  Mrs.  Cayley,  I  mean,  —  let  it  out 
in  one  of  her  — on  one  occasion.  Oh,  my  dear,  I  don't 
mind  !  Better  look  pretty  than  plain.  A  pretty  picture 
is  better  than  an  ugly  dull  canvas  any  day.  Don't  you 
think  so?" 

"  I  certainly  always  admire  you  !  "  Blanche  always 
succeeded  in  amusing  Madge,  whatever  her  mood. 
"But  I  never  tried,  myself — I  thought  I  should  hate 
the  feeling  so  much." 

"  It  depends  on  what  you  use.  I  '11  show  you  how 
to  do  it,  if  you  want  to ;  but  you  're  young  enough  to 
do  without  it  yet.  Poor  Cromo  used  to  call  it  my  tar 
and  feathers,  and  boasted  that  I  was  a  dab  of  a  hand 
at  private  theatricals.  He  never  minded.  It  "s  every- 


The  Story  of  Eden  253 

thing  in  life  to  get  hold  of  a  man  who  does  n't  rag  you 
for  the  sake  of  a  little  powder  !  " 

"  I  '11  bear  that  in  mind  if  I  —  if  I  ever  marry  ! 
When  he  goes  down  on  his  knees  I  '11  say,  '  First,  may 
I  use  a  powder-puff! '  " 

Blanche  looked  at  her  with  some  curiosity  in  her 
sleepy  brown  eyes.  "  Dr.  Langdon  once  told  me  that 
he  could  n't  stand  a  greasy  skin  of  all  things  !  "  was  all 
she  remarked,  however.  " '  Let  them  put  the  whole 
powder-box  on  their  faces,  but  don't  let  them  be 
shiny ! '  he  said.  I  said,  '  How  about  a  mouthful 
of  powder?'  He  said,  '  A  man  takes  his  chance  !  If 
he  's  such  a  fool  as  to  miss  his  goal,  and  get  out  of 
boundary,  he  must  suffer.  Personally  I  don't  know  the 
taste  of  powder,  but  I  Ve  sampled  plenty  of  lip-salve  ! ' 
Smart,  was  n't  it?  " 

Madge  gave  a  little  shriek  of  laughter ;  Mrs.  Cromo 
Dame's  conversation  was  apt  to  act  on  her  like  cham- 
pagne, and  went  to  her  head  in  the  effort  to  follow  its 
intricacies. 

"  By  the  way,  where  's  your  new  man  ?  "  Blanche  said 
suddenly. 

"  Gone  out." 

"With  your  brother?" 

"  No,  I  don't  know  where  Anthony  is." 

The  heavy-lidded,  full-coloured  brown  eyes  dwelt 
thoughtfully  on  the  fire  for  a  minute.  "  You  don't 
know  much  about  him,  do  you !  "  Blanche  said  quietly. 
"  I  'd  look  him  up  now  and  then  if  I  were  you.  Not 
that  it  matters  in  the  end.  Where  's  Crofton  gone 
then?" 

"  He  went  to  the  Rosary  to  see  how  the  house  is 
getting  on  —  " 

"  Does  he  mean  to  get  in  yet  awhile?" 

"  I  don't  know.  He  was  going  to  call  at  Friedenhof 
on  his  way  back." 

"Oh!  — Starling  Dodd?" 


254  The  Story  of  Eden 

"I  daresay." 

Mrs.  Cromo  Dame  leaned  back  in  silence  for  a 
minute,  with  her  eyes  still  on  the  fire.  In  the  pause 
the  wind  thundered,  and  the  sudden  darkness  came 
down  like  a  curtain  over  the  day,  which  almost  seemed 
to  turn  to  night  visibly.  Then  she  spoke  : 

"  Look  here,  Madge,  I  'm  going  to  give  you  a  word 
of  advice  out  of  my  own  experience.  You  can  resent 
it,  if  you  like,  but  you  need  n't.  Don't  be  a  fool  over 
this  man.  Any  one  can  see  that  he  is  after  you,  and 
you  could  have  him  for  very  little  trouble,  I  should  say. 
Don't  let  him  drift  off  to  Starling,  if  you  like  him  your- 
self. He's  a  good  type  of  man  to  marry  —  well-off, 
and  sound,  and  considerate,  I  should  fancy.  You  won't 
come  across  that  sort  every  day,  and  you  'd  better 
marry  while  you  can.  You  're  not  the  kind  of  girl  to 
dawdle  until  you  go  begging,  and  brag  it  out  like  Polly 
Harbord  might  do.  If  she  does  n't  marry,  she  '11  never 
be  an  old  maid,  —  she  Ml  attract  men  when  she  is  fifty, 
and  that's  a  hard  age.  She  can  use  her  tongue.  But 
you  're  not  built  that  way.  You  're  not  offended,  are 
you?" 

"  No,  I  know  you  mean  it  kindly.  It  would  have 
been  easier  not  to  have  spoken.  But  —  I  don't  think 
—  I  shall  marry  —  Mr.  Crofton." 

"  If  you  don't  Starling  will,  or  some  one  else.  And 
you  '11  have  to  stand  by  and  see  her  living  the  life  and 
having  the  position  you  might  have  had.  You  can't  get 
away  from  it  here  —  we  're  all  too  intimate.  And  then, 
if  you  regret  it,  you  '11  begin  to  pick  holes  in  her  and 
pity  him,  and  he,  if  you  once  attracted  him,  will  prob- 
ably come  back  to  you  —  they  generally  get  a  re-action. 
You  'd  better  take  him  now,  than  go  playing  the  fool 
after  he  's  married  some  one  else." 

"  But  supposing  —  " 

"  There  is  n't  another  man,  is  there  ?  I  don't  believe 
it  1  True  was  a  bit  gone  over  you,  but  you  never  were  on 


The  Story  of  Eden  255 

him,  or  V.  C.  either,  though  you  could  make  a  bad  busi- 
ness worse  in  that  quarter,  I  don't  doubt.  If  you  are 
hesitating  over  past  flirtations,  put  them  clean  behind 
you  —  they  don't  count.  A  woman  has  as  much  right 
as  a  man  to  start  clear.  What  wild  oats  she  sowed  be- 
fore she  knew  him  are  no  more  to  him  than  his  to  her." 

Margery  felt  rather  breathless.  The  sudden  intro- 
duction of  V.  C.  and  True,  as  other  than  mere  pleasant 
acquaintances  who  had  just  "  liked  her,"  gave  her  the 
old  shock  of  fear  that  they  also  might  look  upon  her  as 
something  she  was  not  and  could  not  be.  And  the 
final  summing  up  of  Blanche's  modern  philosophy  filled 
her  with  apprehension  lest  her  words  had  a  direct  ap- 
plication, and  at  the  same  time  dazzled  her  with  a  blaze 
of  possible  redemption.  If  one  could  think  that  this 
was  true  !  —  if  women  really  might  repent  as  men  and 
put  their  former  sins  behind  them  without  the  outward 
and  visible  signs  of  a  sheet  and  a  candle,  —  then  indeed 
her  tempest-tossed  doubts  and  questionings  might  sub- 
side in  quiet  rest  and  accomplished  happiness,  or  so 
she  fancied. 

"  Well,  I  must  be  going,"  Blanche  said,  without  wait- 
ing for  an  answer.  She  stretched  herself  like  a  tigress, 
and  raised  her  soft  lissom  body  out  of  the  easy  chair. 
"  You  can  think  over  what  I  say,  Madge  ;  the  best  news 
I  had  heard  for  many  a  long  day  would  be  of  your 
engagement,  and  my  congrats  would  be  the  heartiest 
you  would  receive.  Good-bye,"  —  she  stooped  and 
offered  Madge  a  mouthful  of  the  powder  which  Dr. 
Langdon  avoided  sampling.  "  Ah !  Here 's  your 
brother.  Well,  Mr.  Cunningham,  I  "m  just  going, 
you're  too  late.  Aren't  you  sorry?" 

But  she  did  not  go  at  once,  because  the  Professor 
stood  on  the  hearthrug  talking  to  her,  a  well-groomed 
figure  in  his  well-fitting  riding-dress,  and  the  conversa- 
tion continued  on  the  doorstep,  to  which  he  accompanied 
her,  and  where  they  stood  to  chat.  Margery  knew  he 


256  The  Story  of  Eden 

liked  smart  women,  but  the  circumstance  would  have 
struck  her  even  then  as  miraculous  if  her  thoughts  had 
not  been  absorbed  by  her  late  guest's  counsel.  In  spite 
of  the  wind,  the  Professor,  with  his  coat-collar  turned 
up  round  his  ears,  lingered  over  a  rapid  conversation 
with  Blanche,  while  his  sister  sat  in  the  firelight  seeing 
the  figure  of  blind  Justice  in  the  gleaming  coals,  and 
watching  the  scales  dip  now  on  this  side,  now  on  that. 
When  he  came  back  into  the  warm  room,  shivering  a 
little,  for  he  was  a  delicate  man,  she  was  still  there,  but 
his  rapid  scowling  glance  at  her  face  showed  him  noth- 
ing but  dreamy  absorption. 

"Aren't  you  going  to  dress,  Madge?  It  is  growing 
late  !  "  he  said  warningly.  There  was  a  note  of  rebuke 
in  his  voice  on  the  principle  of  carrying  the  war  into 
the  enemy's  country  and  attacking  her  before  she  could 
accuse  him  of  lingering  himself. 

"  Is  it?     I  will  go  in  a  minute." 

He  glanced  at  her  again,  snarled  an  indistinguishable 
word,  and  went  off  to  the  dining-room  to  drink  neat 
whisky  as  a  preventive  against  a  chill.  Margery  sat  on, 
until  the  howling  of  the  wind  drove  her  into  action. 
As  an  accompaniment  to  her  thoughts  it  was  intoler- 
able ;  she  hated  it  at  all  times,  but  now  it  made  her  want 
to  shriek  in  concert.  She  dressed  for  dinner,  and  then 
sat  down  to  the  piano  and  sang  to  drown  the  howling 
demon  outside,  trying  not  to  count  the  long  hours  that 
Crofton  must  be  spending  at  Friedenhof.  Did  he  mean 
to  dine  there?  Was  he  not  coming  back  until  late? 
Had  he  the  discourtesy  to  — 

His  step  at  last  —  she  caught  it  on  the  gravel  in  the 
pauses  of  Heaven's  artillery,  —  a  firm,  decided  step  that 
she  had  learned  to  know.  She  heard  him  ring  the 
door-bell  sharply,  and  the  maid  answering  it :  "A 
rough  night,  Mary!"  he  said.  "Yes,  Sir,"  —  on 
ordinary  occasions  Margery  would  have  gone  to  let  him 
in  herself,  but  she  had  purposely  not  done  so,  and  did 


The  Story  of  Eden  257 

not  wish  him  to  lose  the  point  of  her  action.  So  she 
began  to  sing,  in  order  to  announce  her  presence  in 
the  drawing-room,  and  the  fact  that  she  must  have 
heard  him  ring.  It  was  the  "  Lover's  Lullaby  "  — 

"  Sings  the  Starling, 
'  Kiss  thy  darling  ! ' 

While  the  dove  doth  bid  us  love  >" 

An  odd  recklessness  had  taken  possession  of  her. 
She  thought  of  Blanche's  suggestion  that  she  would  have 
to  stand  by  and  see  his  life  with  Starling,  —  all  the 
things  she  might  have  had,  and  deliberately  renounced ; 
she  wondered  how  it  would  affect  her,  and  tried  to 
look  at  it  in  all  its  details,  trying  the  pain  before- 
hand, as  one  moves  a  wounded  limb  to  find  which 
position  is  the  most  endurable.  Then  she  heard 
Crofton  pause  at  the  door,  and  he  entered. 

"  Oh  ! "  she  said  carelessly,  leaving  off  her  song,  but 
not  rising.  "  How  late  you  are  !  " 

"Am  I?  Time  flew  rather.  By  Jove,  I  am  late! 
I  had  no  idea  —  Hope  I  sha'n't  keep  dinner  waiting  !  " 
He  turned  again  to  the  door,  and  then  spoke  as  he 
opened  it,  "  Starling  sent  her  love  to  you,  —  she  is 
coming  over  to  the  Rosary  to-morrow  to  see  the 
place." 

Margery's  mouth  was  dry.  "Starling/"  she  re- 
peated blankly. 

"  Oh  —  Miss  Dodd  !  Sorry,  but  you  always  speak 
of  her  so.  It's  catching." 

"Oh  —  of  course." 

"  I  thought  we  would  ride  down  and  meet  her  there." 

"  You  can  anyway.  I  believe  I  have  to  go  to  Cape 
Town." 

She  did  not  know  that  she  could  be  so  angry.     The 

strength   of    her  jealousy   overwhelmed    her   for   the 

moment.     At  any  cost  she  felt  that  she  must  regain 

what  she  had  already  lost.     Her  hands  fell  from  the 

17 


258  The  Story  of  Eden 

keys,  and  she  jumped  up  and  crossed  the  room  to  the 
fireplace. 

"  What  a  long  time  you  were  out ! "  she  said  un- 
steadily. "  Mrs.  Dame  left  long  ago  —  I  Ve  been  — 
I  've  been —  all  alone." 

She  heard  the  door  close,  and  for  the  minute  she 
thought  he  had  gone.  Then  he  came  back  across  the 
room  and  stood  beside  her  —  waiting. 

"  It  was  n't  nice  of  you  !  "  she  whispered.  "  I  wanted 
you." 

"Well?"  he  said.  She  realised  that  he  would  not 
speak  first,  and  looked  up  with  shining  eyes  which  were 
full  of  fear  of  herself.  She  seemed  to  have  lost  control. 
All  her  carefully  erected  barriers  of  reason,  and  con- 
science, and  determination,  behind  which  she  had  en- 
trenched herself,  had  fallen  about  her  in  ruins.  And 
yet  she  had  fought  not  weakly,  and  with  desperate 
appeals  to  some  vague  God,  beyond  herself,  for  help. 

"  I  always  want  you  !  "  she  said  inaudibly,  and  turned 
her  face  against  his  breast,  as  though  she  hid  from  her 
own  defeat. 

"  My  darling  ! "  he  murmured,  in  a  voice  he  had 
never  let  himself  use  as  yet.  "  I  can  never  thank  you 
properly,  but  I  love  you  better  than  anything  on 
earth  ! " 

An  echo  out  of  the  past  repeated  almost  the  same 
words  to  her  shuddering,  reluctant  memory,  —  nay,  as 
their  lips  met,  the  sting  and  stain  of  other  kisses 
seemed  to  prevent  her  realising  the  bliss  of  these.  And 
so  was  her  betrothal  sealed,  —  for  she  came  to  him  not 
fresh  with  mortal  ignorance,  but  with  the  terrible  gift 
and  gain  of  a  God,  "knowing  good  and  evil." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

"  To  love  the  right  things  rightly ;  this  ensphertt 

Wisdom,  religion,  art ;  forges  the  key 
That  opens  Edens  through  the  Gate  of  Tears, 
Where  by  life's  river  blooms  the  mystic  Tree" 

THE  new  elderly  Colonel  of  the  Duke's,  who  the 
Regiment  asserted  was  being  finished  off  in  Africa,  was 
an  authority  on  etiquette  ;  on  Guest  night  his  officers 
must  be  present  to  a  man,  or  he  would  know  the  rea- 
son why;  indeed  Forrester  declared  that  no  excuse 
would  be  accepted  save  a  broken  neck  or  a  railway 
accident,  in  which  cases  the  ghost  would  have  to  ap- 
pear and  satisfy  the  Chief  for  the  absence  of  the  body. 
On  other  nights  it  was  sufficient  to  warn  off,  but  woe 
to  the  man  who  omitted  the  ceremony  ! 

It  was  not  even  very  safe  to  be  late ;  Mr.  Henderson 
was  late  to-night,  and  the  Colonel  glared.  The  Junior 
Subaltern  fell  into  his  seat  apologetically,  and  attacked 
his  meal  at  once.  He  was  a  round-faced  youth  with  a 
roseate  colour,  and  when  agitated  it  matched  his  Mess 
jacket  nicely. 

"  You  have  done  it !  "  muttered  the  Brawler,  who 
was  on  Henderson's  right.  "  Where  Ve  you  been?" 

"  Calling  on  Mrs.  Naseby.  She  kept  me,  gossiping 
old  cat !  Heard  some  news,  though." 

"No!     What 'sup?" 

"  That  brute  Forrester  has  been  refused !  I  am 
glad  ! "  Mr.  dive  Forrester  had  not  endeared  him- 
self to  his  juniors.  He  was  better  off  than  most  of  his 
fellows,  and  Senior  Sub.  His  ways  in  the  Regiment 
were  apt  to  rouse  annoyance  to  frenzy,  and  to  make 
those  who  were  not  strictly  his  associates  disgusted 
critics  of  a  little  way  he  had  of  currying  favour.  Now 


260  The  Story  of  Eden 

you  may  pursue  a  sinful  career  in  the  Army,  it  seems, 
and  do  many  questionable  things ;  but  you  are  open 
to  a  wholesale  fire  of  scrutiny  and  comment,  and  the 
man  who  toadies  is  briefly  labelled  as  a  loathsome 
beast. 

"Who  is  it?  Edith  Hofman,  of  course.  I  never 
thought  she  would  have  him  !  "  The  Drawler  was 
wise  after  the  event.  "  Did  Mrs.  Naseby  tell  you  ? 
It 's  sure  to  be  a  lie  —  " 

"  No,  it  is  n't.  He 's  so  awfully  sick  he  's  gone  off 
to  mope.  Fancy  Pete  moping!  " 

The  Drawler  glanced  round  the  table ;  Truman, 
Tennyson,  Cayley,  Ames,  Scott  Murray,  Wright,  — 
they  stretched  away  from  him,  a  red  line  of  flesh 
feeders.  No,  now  he  came  to  look,  Clive  Forrester 
was  wanting. 

"  By  Jove  !  I  had  n't  noticed,"  he  acknowledged. 
"Then  it  must  have  been  on  Thursday,  after  Johnnie 
Dodd's  dinner.  I  was  there.  Forrester  went  off  with 
her  into  the  glass  houses,  and  I  suppose  his  dinner 
egged  him  on.  Look  sharp,  Henderson,  we  're  a 
course  ahead." 

The  boy  choked,  and  pushed  his  plate  away.  "  I  'm 
not  hungry,"  he  said.  "  I  Ve  got  some  more  news.  " 

"  Oh,  lord  !  Give  it  us  by  degrees.  Any  more  of  us 
wasting  our  maiden  affections?  Yourself,  perhaps." 

"  Not  I."  Henderson  grinned.  He  had  learned  to 
grin  his  way  through  chaff  during  his  initiation  in  the 
Duke's.  Africa  had  tanned,  and  his  brother  Officers 
had  hammered  him,  into  hardness.  They  let  him 
alone  now,  save  for  an  occasional  burst  of  high  spirits, 
and  he  concentrated  his  mind  upon  his  uniform  until  it 
almost  fitted. 

"  It 's  such  a  bore  being  all  out  here,"  he  said  confi- 
dentially. "  One  never  hears  any  of  the  Wynberg  or 
Rondesbosch  news.  Mrs.  Naseby  waxed  great  this 
afternoon.  Miss  Cunningham  's  engaged." 


The  Story  of  Eden  261 

"  The  deuce  !  " 

Henderson  looked  knowing.  He  had  heard  enough, 
on  his  first  coming  out,  to  locate  the  drift  of  Ransom's 
expletive.  "  Yes,  she  would  n't  have  hooked  a  native 
of  these  parts,"  he  said  with  an  assumption  of  blase 
worldliness  that  sat  oddly  on  his  fresh  young  face. 
"  It  "s  a  fellow  who  's  only  just  come  down  here  — 
Crofton.  He  knows  nothing  of  the  neighbourhood  and 
its  stories  a  year  since." 

"  Look  here,"  —  Ransom  had  recovered  himself, — 
"  don't  you  let  Mowbray  or  Truman  hear  you  talking 
like  that.  They  are  both  friends  of  hers.  Never  mind 
what  you  think  you  know,  you  'd  better  shut  your  mouth 
about  this  affair." 

"  But  half  the  Regiment  knows  that  Major  —  " 

"  Never  mind  the  Regiment.  You  take  my  advice. 
Shut  your  mouth.  Get  up,  there  's  the  Queen  !  " 

Mowbray  was  seeing  the  guard  turned  .out  that  night. 
After  the  toasts  he  swung  out  of  the  room,  wrapped 
himself  in  his  overcoat,  jammed  his  cap  down  over  his 
eyes,  and  stamped  out  into  as  bad  a  night  as  well  could 
be.  The  wind  howled,  and  a  sheet  of  large  rain  pelted 
in  his  face.  He  shook  his  head  bravely,  like  a  dog, 
and  went  through  his  duty  doggedly,  but  he  was  not 
sorry  when  it  was  over,  and  he  could  return  to  the 
Mess  for  the  chance  of  a  game  of  whist. 

When  he  got  back  to  the  Mess  most  of  the  older 
men  had  left;  the  Brawler  was  alone  to  keep  order 
among  the  Subs,  and  acted  as  referee  in  the  cock-fight 
which  was  taking  place  between  Scott  Murray  and 
Ames.  Murray's  weight  stood  him  in  good  stead,  but 
Ames  was  more  active,  being  chiefly  composed  of  well 
set  bones  and  perfectly  trained  muscles.  The  Brawler 
called,  "  Time  !  "  and  amidst  a  shriek  of  laughter  the 
two  sat  still,  facing  each  other,  and  panting  for  a  minute 
from  the  effort  of  rolling,  and  twisting,  and  squirming 
their  toes  beneath  those  of  their  adversary,  as  best  they 


262  The  Story  of  Eden 

could.  Mowbray  had  stood  still  to  look  at  them  and 
shout  too,  —  he  was  a  regular  boy ;  as  he  turned  away 
he  heard  '  Silence  '  Wright  say  shortly  to  Tennyson,  "  Is 
it  true  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I  suppose  so.  Henderson  told 
Ransom  ;  he  has  been  calling  on  that  female  Inquisition 
incarnate,  Mrs.  Naseby.  I  think  it  very  likely." 

"  Who  is  the  man  ?  " 

"  This  fellow  named  Crofton  who  is  staying  with 
them.  It  is  very  probable.  After  all  a  few  stories 
don't  fatally  injure  a  girl's  character.  Miss  Cunning- 
ham may  have  been  a  little  fool  in  our  opinion,  but 
there  's  nothing  to  prove." 

Silence  nodded  shortly.  "  I  was  away  on  leave  most 
of  the  time,"  he  said.  "What  was  the  tale?  The 
Tracker  rode  with  her?" 

"  Oh,  well,  it  was  n't  only  that.  He  was  there  morn- 
ing, noon,  and  night  —  especially  night !  Her  brother 
went  to  Grahamstown,  and  then  there  was  a  lot  of 
talk." 

"  Forrester  made  most  of  it.  You  can't  trust  what 
he  says." 

"  He  was  in  with  Vibart,  though." 

"  Yes,  and  blackguarded  him  behind  his  back  more 
than  any  one.  To  his  face  it  was  all  honey.  '  Won't 
you  have  a  drink,  Major?  Glad  to  see  you  back,  Sir.' 
Then  the  instant  the  Tracker  was  out  of  hearing  he 
called  him  a  simple  Woman-hunter,  and  said  he  was  a 
disgrace  to  the  Regiment !  " 

"  All  that  does  n't  disprove  Vibart's  penchant  for 
Margery  Cunningham.  It  was  undeniable,  and  con- 
sidering what  we  know  of  Vibart  —  " 

"It  never  choked  True  off!  He  has  been  there 
since  as  much  as  ever,  if  not  more." 

Mowbray  heard,  he  could  not  help  hearing,  and  his 
heart  turned  sick  within  him,  while  he  wondered  what 
this  slur  was  on  dear,  pretty  Madge  Cunningham.  He 


The  Story  of  Eden  263 

had  come  to  Wynberg  too  late  to  hear  of  it,  for  it  had 
been  displaced  by  fresher  scandals  in  the  minds  of  the 
men ;  but  he  could  not  take  the  comfort  to  himself 
that  it  was  only  idle  talk  in  the  mouths  of  Tennyson 
and  Wright,  as  he  would  have  with  Forrester  and  Scott 
Murray.  He  was  to  hear  it  many  times  in  the  days 
which  followed,  and  to  have  the  details  recalled  and 
accentuated  by  empty  heads  eager  for  distraction  of 
any  kind.  Furthermore,  he  learned  to  prove  his  loyalty 
in  the  stress  of  a  secret  pain  that  he  bore  in  silence, 
and  to  face  an  overwhelming  majority  with  a  sturdy, 
"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it ! "  that  never  faltered. 
"  Any  girl  so  pretty  as  Miss  Cunningham  has  enemies. 
She  is  allowed  a  lot  of  licence  —  that 's  her  brother's 
fault ;  but  I  believe  she  's  as  good,  and  honest,  and 
straight  a  little  girl  as  I  would  wish  my  sister  to 
be  ! "  His  championship  comforted  himself  at  any 
rate. 

Madge's  engagement  was  talked  threadbare  for  a 
week,  and  then  dropped  into  the  sphere  of  things  es- 
tablished, and  accepted  as  such.  She  had  her  cham- 
pions beside  Mowbray,  if  need  be,  —  Valentine  Cayley, 
Major  Yeats,  True,  the  Dodds,  Cissie  Redmayne,  and 
the  Drysdales ;  but  most  of  these  were  wise  in  keeping 
silence  and  leaving  things  to  settle  themselves.  Madge 
herself  never  guessed  at  the  drift  of  the  gossip;  she 
had  no  idea  as  yet  of  any  breath  of  scandal  against  her ; 
but,  of  course,  people  would  discuss  her  —  one  always 
discussed  the  principal  parties  in  an  engagement.  She 
hoped  they  would  be  charitable,  and  that  she  should 
come  off  well.  She  said  as  much  to  Clarice  Drysdale 
one  afternoon  when  her  friend  came  over  to  talk  with 
her.  It  was  a  mild  afternoon,  after  a  week  of  stormy 
weather,  and  warm  for  the  time  of  the  year.  Madge 
and  Clarice  took  the  basket  chairs  out  onto  the  stoep, 
and  basked  in  the  sunshine  as  in  a  foretaste  of  sum- 
mer. It  was  the  beginning  of  September,  and  the 
promise  of  spring  was  already  in  the  air. 


264  The  Story  of  Eden 

Clarice  settled  herself  with  her  feet  upon  the  foot- 
rest,  and  prepared  to  talk  luxuriously. 

"You  know,  of  course,  what  I  have  come  for?"  she 
said  calmly.  "  I  have  come  to  discuss  your  engage- 
ment. It  is  what  everybody  is  doing  for  miles  round, 
so  we  may  as  well  do  it  too.  Besides  there  is  some- 
thing rather  quaint  in  really  criticising  such  a  situation 
with  the  principal  party  concerned." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  they  will  talk,"  said  Madge.  "  I 
hope  they  '11  let  me  off  easily.  I  am  rather  a  good  sort 
on  the  whole,  don't  you  think,  Clarice?" 

"  I  wonder  what  they  will  say  of  Mr.  Crofton  !  He 
shuts  himself  up  in  himself  so  much  that  he  gives 
one  the  aggravated  feeling  that  one  is  always  left 
outside  !  " 

"  Mind  you  tell  me  if  you  hear !  It  would  be  so 
amusing.  Clarice,  were  you  surprised?  " 

"  No,  not  entirely.  You  see  when  a  man  and  a 
woman  are  staying  under  the  same  roof  with  each  other, 
it  is  probable  that  they  will  drift  either  into  brother 
and  sister,  or  husband  and  wife.  If  Adam  and  Eve 
had  n't  had  Eden  to  themselves,  it  is  extremely  probable 
that  Adam  would  merely  have  said  that  Eve  was  a  nice 
smart  little  girl  —  knew  how  to  dress,  (fig  leaves  !)  — 
and  Eve  would  have  remarked  that  Adam  was  a  dear 
good  fellow,  but  not  at  all  the  kind  of  man  she  could 
marry.  Do  you  know,  Madge,  I  always  thought  that 
after  the  first  re-action  she  preferred  the  Snake  ?  " 

"  Don't,  Clarice  !     How  can  you  be  so  silly?" 

"  Well,  it  merely  illustrates  my  principle  that  human 
beings  are  constituted  that  way.  I  once  travelled 
Home  in  company  with  a  very  learned  man  whose 
business  it  was  to  devote  himself  to  the  mental,  rather 
than  the  physical  education,  of  his  fellow  beings. 
There  were  a  great  many  couples  on  board  who  were 
carrying  on  most  promising  flirtations.  I  remember 
the  shock  it  gave  me  when  he  said  thoughtfully,  after 


The  Story  of  Eden  265 

we  passed  Madeira,  '  I  should  like  to  ship  off  two  or 
three  of  our  Mutual  Attractions  into  the  uninhabited 
islands  in  this  group,  and  return  in  a  year's  time  to  see 
the  result ! '  It  was  a  horrid  idea,  but  I  have  since 
thought  that  his  experiment  was  a  foregone  conclusion." 

"  It  is  n't  a  very  satisfactory  one  though  !  It  makes 
me  doubt  the  reality  of  any  attachment.  Do  you 
think  all  marriages  are  really  due  to  opportunity  and 
propinquity?" 

"  A  good  many  are.  In  your  case,  as  it  happened, 
I  was  sceptical.  I  did  not  think  you  would  have  him, 
Madge  !  —  but  that  does  not  prevent  my  being  very 
glad." 

The  light  had  dropped  lower.  It  lay  warm  on  the 
under  branches  of  the  belt  of  trees  on  the  far-off 
mountain-side.  Margery  looked  away  to  the  soft 
mellow  prospect,  —  Nature's  mood  was  one  of  yielding 
tenderness  at  the  moment,  —  while  she  answered. 

"Tell  me  why  you  thought  so." 

"  Because  I  fancied  you  were  afraid." 

"  Of  marrying?" 

"  Of  men.  I  know  you  have  had  a  rougher  time 
than  any  one  suspects.  It  always  seems  to  me  one  of 
the  most  hopeful  signs  of  Human  Nature,"  she  added 
thoughtfully,  "that  we  turn  our  bright  side  to  the 
world,  and  keep  our  troubles  to  ourselves." 

"  Apparently  I  have  not  kept  mine,  —  as  you  guessed 
it." 

"  Therein  I  take  credit  to  myself  in  being  keener- 
sighted  than  my  neighbours,  for  indeed,  Madge,  you 
never  wore  your  heart  on  your  sleeve,  or  lamented  your 
sorrows  in  the  market-place.  But,  my  dear,  to  speak 
plainly,  a  temper  like  your  brother's  is  as  the  old  pro- 
verb about  Love  and  a  Cough  —  it  cannot  be  hid  ! 
There  is  hardly  a  human  being  in  the  neighbourhood 
to  whom  he  has  not  been  appallingly  rude  at  some  time 
or  other,  from  which  it  is  natural  to  guess  at  his  domes- 


266  The  Story  of  Eden 

tic  character,  for  there  he  is  not  even  restrained  by 
conventional  considerations  and  training." 

The  lines  of  the  soft  young  face  at  which  Mrs. 
Drysdale  looked  hardened  with  memory,  —  the  red 
mouth  curved  cynically,  —  the  voice  which  answered 
her  was  sceptical. 

"  I  cannot  say  that  an  intimate  acquaintance  with 
Anthony  is  a  testimonial  for  mankind  in  general  as 
companions.  But  whatever  state  of  life  I  find  myself 
in,  in  the  future,  I  don't  think  I  can  be  much  worse  off 
than  I  have  been,  as  far  as  that  goes,  so  it  has  had  its 
advantages  in  preparing  me.  All  men  have  their  draw- 
backs, I  suppose ;  I  have  not  discovered  Lanse's  yet, 
but  I  should  hardly  expect  them  to  be  as  intolerable  as 
Anthony's.  I  am  of  a  hopeful  nature  !  " 

There  was  a  double  experience  prompting  the  cyni- 
cal little  speech,  and  Clarice  felt  it.  Margery  had  had 
two  standards  to  judge  by  —  the  brutally  disagreeable, 
as  exemplified  by  her  brother's  ungoverned  temper  and 
roughness ;  and  the  brutally  agreeable,  which  she  re- 
garded as  the  alternative,  and  had  sampled  in  Vibart's 
unrestrained  indulgence  of  his  affections.  She  had  had 
no  opportunity  of  proving  that  there  might  be  more  re- 
fined relations  between  the  sexes. 

"  Do  you  know,  Madge,  your  experience  has  been 
awfully  bad  for  you  !  "  Clarice  said.  "  It  is  as  well  you 
are  marrying  —  you  are  growing  hard  and  light  in  your 
estimates.  You  look  upon  all  men  as  brutes  and 
tyrants,  —  selfish,  bestial  creations  from  whom  a  woman 
can  look  for  nothing  but  a  tolerable  kindness  which  is 
half  animalism.  But  it  isn't  like  that  —  not  really. 
Mr.  Crofton  is  n't  going  to  knock  you  down  if  the  din- 
ner is  late,  or  handle  you  like  an  Eastern  slave  girl  to 
make  up  afterwards  !  You  are  all  wrong  —  and  I  am 
so  sorry,  because  I  know  you  must  have  had  a  bad 
breaking  in  to  give  you  such  an  impression." 

"  Am  I  really  coarse  in  my  point  of  view,  Clarice  ? 
Have  I  got  that  kind  of  mind?" 


The  Story  of  Eden  267 

"  Oh,  no  !  Oh,  no  !  how  can  you  think  I  meant  that ! 
It  was  only  —  I  am  so  sorry  —  perhaps  I  could  have 
helped  you  when  you  were  learning  —  but  I  never 
knew  !  " 

There  was  a  silence,  and  the  velvet  light  died  off  the 
velvet  slopes.  Down  below  them  in  the  vineyard  the 
green  buds  of  the  vines  swelled  with  the  breath  of 
spring,  and  ripened  for  bursting.  The  first  madness  of 
the  rising  sap  was  in  the  air,  and  the  earth's  blood  beat. 
Margery  shivered  with  the  ghost  of  an  old  sensation. 

"  It  was  that  time  when  the  boys  had  measles  —  I 
could  n't  get  at  you  to  tell  you,"  she  said  abruptly. 
Her  voice  was  as  soft  and  pretty  as  ever. 

"  Yes  ?  —  I  am  sorry  !  I  am  sorry  !  I  knew  some- 
thing had  altered  you.  Beau  told  me  you  had  grown, 
—  and  I  know  what  that  means  from  him.  I  am  afraid 
he  was  a  bad  acquaintance  for  you,  Madge." 

"Mr.  Livingston?" 

"  Yes." 

"I  don't  think  he  had  anything  to  do  with  it  —  I 
don't  know.  Perhaps  he  helped  to  educate  me. 
Clarice,  you  don't  know  what  I  would  not  give  now  to 
be  the  little  girl  whom  you  found  crying  amongst  the 
furniture  !  I  never  can  be,  and  Lanse  does  not  know 
what  he  has  —  not  gained." 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,"  Mrs.  Drysdale  said  slowly, 
"  but  if  it  is  any  comfort  to  you,  I  must  tell  you  that  I 
am  sure  that  the  little  girl  I  found  that  day  would  never 
have  married  Mr.  Crofton  !  Your  '  education,'  as  you 
call  it,  whatever  influences  went  to  make  it,  moulded 
you  into  a  woman  to  attract  such  a  nature  as  his.  If 
you  had  merely  developed  in  the  type  in  which  I  found 
you,  you  would  never  have  felt  very  much  or  under- 
stood very  much.  You  would  have  been  just  a  bright, 
ordinary  little  soul  who  would  have  been  married  by 
an  ordinary  young  man  with  no  great  brains  either.  I 
don't  say  you  would  n't  have  been  more  levelly  happy, 


268  The  Story  of  Eden 

—  but  you  would  never  have  come  within  measurable 
distance  of  Lansing  Crofton,  though  you  stayed  under 
the  same  roof  all  your  days  !  " 

Margery  drew  a  deep  breath,  as  if  the  pain  of  her 
development  was  stronger  than  the  pleasure  of  her  con- 
sequent gain. 

"There  is  a  text  in  the  Bible  which  I  heard  in 
church  last  Sunday,  and  which  always  seems  to  me  a 
horrible  mockery,"  she  said.  "  It  is  that  about  God 
not  allowing  people  to  be  tempted  more  than  they  are 
able,  but  with  the  temptation  making  also  a  way  of  es- 
cape. Don't  you  think  it  is  sometimes  impossible  to 
escape,  Clarice?  " 

"  Yes,  and  more  often  to  resist  —  especially  for  a 
woman.  If  she  is  wise,  and  realises  that  she  is  not  the 
fine  statue  of  steel  and  iron  which  she  should  be  in 
masculine  opinion,  she  runs  away  at  the  first  sign  in 
herself  of  collapse.  It  sometimes  appals  me  to  think 
of  the  iron  wills,  the  dogged  determination,  the  absolute 
superiority  to  all  weakness,  and  imperviousness  of 
temptations  against  which  they  would  never  struggle 
themselves,  which  men  suppose  us  to  possess  !  I  asked 
Ossy  to  explain  once,  and  he  frankly  said  that  there 
was  no  experience  up  till  now  to  justify  men  in  think- 
ing women  the  more  invulnerable  of  the  sexes  !  Rude, 
was  n't  it?" 

"  And  supposing,  as  I  say,  you  cannot  escape  —  " 

"There  is  no  supposition.  The  battle  is  probably 
lost  by  divine  decree.  I  do  not  always  agree  with  the 
Apostles,  but  I  am  superstitious  enough  to  make  a 
higher  power  responsible  for  a  failure  which  I  cannot 
otherwise  explain.  Sometimes  I  think  that  God  turns 
a  deaf  ear  on  purpose  !  " 

"  Sometimes  /  think  that  there  is  no  God  —  for 
women." 

Mrs.  Drysdale  looked  at  her  tenderly  and  pitifully. 
"  You  will  outgrow  it,  dear  1  I  have  been  through  that 


The  Story  of  Eden  269 

too,"  she  said.  "  You  will  find  the  hardness  melting  out 
of  you  in  your  home  life  —  there  is  nothing  like  happi- 
ness  for  improving  people.  I  don't  believe  in  adversity, 
it  contracts  souls,  —  good  fortune  expands  them  like 
sunshine.  Marriage  has  its  ups  and  downs,  of  course ; 
but  given  a  decent  sort  of  man,  the  woman  must  be  a 
fool  who  can't  make  herself  a  comfortable,  cosy  corner 
of  the  world  in  which  at  least  she  is  a  supreme  power, 
and  which  she  can  fill  with  her  private  and  particular 
interests.  —  I  must  be  hurrying  home  to  mine,  anyhow 
—  Ossy  will  be  home  first  if  I  don't." 

"  No  one  would  guess  how  domesticated  you  really 
are,  Clarice  !  "  Madge  said  rather  fondly,  as  she  came 
out  of  her  lounging  chair  to  stand  in  front  of  her  friend 
with  her  hands  on  her  waist. 

"  It  is  so  vulgar  to  be  always  flaunting  one's  pecu- 
liarities in  the  face  of  the  world  !  "  said  Mrs.  Drysdale, 
looking  down  benevolently  from  her  greater  height. 
"  I  hope  I  shall  never  be  guilty  of  going  about  labelled, 
'  I  am  a  domestic  woman ! '  Beau  used  to  say  I 
concealed  my  vices  admirably  —  no  one  would  have 
guessed  from  my  gowns  and  conversation  that  I  knew 
how  to  darn  socks  and  make  a  pudding  ! " 

"  Beau  was  such  a  looking-glass  person  !  He  always 
talked  backwards,  and  it  confused  me.  How  fond  you 
were  of  him  ! " 

"  Was  n't  I  ?  Most  women  were  who  knew  him  well. 
He  was  so  agile,  his  mind  and  body  were  in  perfect 
training.  He  was  always  well-dressed  and  amusing, 
and  he  did  not  make  mistakes.  He  was  an  admirable 
person  to  introduce  to  old  ladies,  and  women  over 
thirty,  both  of  whom  always  displayed  an  amiable 
weakness  for  him ;  but  I  should  not  recommend  him  as 
a  guide  for  extreme  youth  !  " 

"  He  said  rather  dreadful  things  sometimes,  did  n't 
he  ?  "  said  Madge,  with  an  irresistible  chuckle.  "  Star- 
ling tells  me  she  saw  him  in  London." 


270  The  Story  of  Eden 

"He  had  a  penchant  for  Starling,  which  in  less 
decided  little  hands  than  hers  might  have  expanded 
into  a  quite  uncomfortable  situation.  But  it  is  a  wise 
but  unlocked  for  precaution  of  Nature's  that,  under  those 
soft  alluring  characteristics  of  hers,  Starling  should  hide 
a  sturdy  strength  of  purpose  which  is  Johnnie  Dodd's 
very  own  !  She  is  like  a  little  brown  bird  to  look  at, 
is  n't  she?" 

"  She  can  peck,  though  !  Poor  True  is  in  disgrace 
just  now.  I  can't  think  why,  and  I  don't  like  to  in- 
quire. Ever  since  she  came  back,  Starling  has  snubbed 
him  unmercifully." 

Mrs.  Drysdale  began  to  laugh,  and  she  went  on 
laughing  all  the  way  home.  At  dinner  she  divulged  the 
secret  of  her  mirth  to  her  husband.  "  A  very  pretty 
quarrel  is  going  on  in  pantomime,"  she  said,  "  and  the 
cream  of  the  joke  is  that  the  bone  of  contention  does 
not  know  that  she  is  the  bone,  and  is  innocently  won- 
dering what  has  caused  it." 

"  Clarice,  if  you  grow  enigmatical  I  shall  dine  in 
Cape  Town  another  night ! "  protested  Ossy,  mildly. 
"  I  thought  the  last  development  of  the  dynamite 
monopoly  a  hard  nut  to  crack,  but  you  are  even  worse." 

"  I  mean  Starling  and  True,"  Mrs.  Drysdale  ex- 
plained. "  I  went  to  see  Madge  to-day,  and  she  told 
me  in  all  innocence  that  Starling  is  ruffling  her  feathers 
up  at  True,  and  she  can't  think  why  !  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  see  that  she  is  responsible.  Starling 
is  a  turk  !  " 

"  And  True  is  a  weathercock !  You  know  he  has 
been  Madge's  lapdog  in  Starling's  absence,  and  of 
course  the  little  bird  is  not  going  to  allow  her  own 
particular  property  to  revert  to  some  one  else,  and 
return  to  her  save  at  her  own  pleasure.  She  is  far  too 
loyal  to  breathe  a  word  of  resentment  to  Madge,  who  is 
really  innocent  in  intention,  but  she  has  dropped  True 
like  a  red-hot  coal.  It  is  very  funny  !  " 


The  Story  of  Eden  271 

"  I  don't  see  what  Starling  has  to  complain  of !  She 
was  n't  here,  and  True  only  consoled  himself  in  her 
absence !  " 

"  Unfortunately  he  consoled  himself  once  too  often 
in  her  presence  !  He  was  still  ready  to  be  Madge's 
devoted  slave  after  Starling's  return ;  but  Madge  got 
engaged,  and  then  True  went  to  Starling  for  sympathy, 
and  Starling  metaphorically  boxed  his  ears  !  " 

"  True  is  such  a  general  lover  that  his  deviations  do 
not  count,"  said  Ossy.  "  I  had  an  idea  that  Starling 
would  get  engaged  when  she  went  Home.  I  wonder 
she  returned  still  free." 

Madge  sat  still  on  the  stoep  for  some  time  after  her 
guest  had  gone.  It  grew  chill  and  dark,  but  she  did 
not  heed  it,  for  she  was  thinking.  She  had  never  said 
as  much  to  any  mortal  being  about  her  past  experi- 
ence as  she  had  to  Mrs.  Drysdale ;  but  she  had  said  all 
she  had  to  say.  She  knew  that  she  would  go  no  fur- 
ther. Her  speech  with  regard  to  Tess  that  she  should 
"never,  never  have  told  her  secret,"  was  born  of  a 
deep  conviction.  She  would  never  breathe  more  than 
she  had  to  Clarice,  —  that  vague  outline  of  a  crisis  in 
her  life,  which  both  from  her  own  and  Clarice's  wording 
might  have  been  attributable  to  Beaumont  Livingston, 
—  and  she  would  guard  the  secret  in  all  probability  to 
the  end  of  her  days,  growing  more  and  more  jealous 
of  any  discovery  as  years  went  by  and  cased  her  more 
firmly  in  her  armour  of  respectability.  Nevertheless, 
she  suffered  as  much,  or  more,  than  if  she  stood  con- 
fessed a  sinner.  Madge  had  accomplished  the  thing 
she  had  tacitly  demanded  of  Providence,  —  to  cast  her 
past  and  its  actions  utterly  behind  her,  to  stand  free, 
untrammelled  by  discovery  or  criticism,  and  start  again, 
as  a  man  might  do.  And  she  failed  exactly  as  ninety- 
nine  out  of  a  hundred  women  must,  who  claim  an  equal- 
ity with  men,  by  the  very  nature  of  their  sex.  The  cry 
against  the  injustice  of  one  law  for  women,  and  another 


272  The  Story  of  Eden 

for  men,  is  rendered  unprofitable  by  the  women  them- 
selves, who  have  really  been  at  the  foundation  of  such 
laws.  A  woman  demands  to  be  as  a  man,  free  to  sow  her 
wild  oats,  repent,  and  start  again,  unquestioned  for  her 
past,  so  long  as  her  present  and  future  are  clean ;  good, 
—  if  she  is  not  found  out  she  may  do  it.  But  she  also 
demands  to  feel  herself  on  a  higher  level,  to  give  her 
new  lord  everything,  to  come  to  him,  fresh  and  unsul- 
lied, virgin  and  from  the  hand  of  God,  or  is  she  racked 
by  a  sense  of  loss,  of  conscience,  and  of  incomplete- 
ness, —  a  divided  loyalty.  I  speak  not  of  the  vauricns 
of  both  sexes,  who  are  sufficiently  hardened  to  love  no 
human  being  but  themselves,  and  therefore  have  no 
standard  but  their  own  aggrandisement.  But  take  any 
man  who  is  a  decent,  straight-living  fellow,  —  decent 
as  men  go  among  his  fellow  men,  —  will  he,  when  he 
settles  down  and  marries,  be  the  prey  of  remorse  be- 
cause he  has  lived  as  men  do?  If  he  have  no  slips  of 
virtue  to  regret  he  is  hardly  a  man,  is  a  universal  ver- 
dict ;  he  probably  will  regret  them,  —  to  the  extent  of 
a  passing  fervent  assertion  that  women  are  saints  or 
angels,  and  men  not  fit  to  touch  their  hands,  delivered 
during  his  engagement  or  honeymoon.  We  all  have 
our  puritanic  hour.  But  the  good  fellow  (recognised 
as  such  by  his  fellow  men)  is  a  healthy,  hearty  ani- 
mal, not  prone  to  ascetic  fanaticism,  or  morbid  senti- 
ment. He  is  very  sorry — he  will  go  straight  in  future, 
and  be  faithful  to  the  most  angelic  of  her  sex,  but  his 
peccadilloes  do  not  greatly  trouble  him,  possibly  be- 
cause he  knows  they  would  not  greatly  trouble  her.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  woman  does  not  take  the  same 
view  of  herself :  she  also  is  very  sorry ;  but  her  sorrow 
is  a  desperate  hunted  thing,  partaking  of  despair ;  she, 
also,  will  be  faithful,  —  she  swears  it  on  her  knees,  with 
agony  and  bloody  sweat,  and  it  haunts  her  waking 
thoughts  and  nightly  dreams,  until  every  thought  be- 
stowed on  other  men  partakes  of  disloyalty.  She  frets 


The  Story  of  Eden  273 

because  she  is  not  immaculate,  though  she  alone  knows 
it.  Woman  is  her  own  executioner,  and  in  this  ques- 
tion of  absolution  for  past  sins,  she  will  never  be  the 
equal  of  the  broader,  baser,  less  finely  balanced  male. 

It  is  possible  that  Lansing  Crofton's  past  would  have 
borne  less  inspection  than  Margery  Cunningham's,  but 
that  disturbed  him  not  at  all,  and  would  have  been  no 
comfort  to  her  had  it  been  proved  to  her.  She  sat 
long  into  the  growing  dark,  —  as  Eve  sat  once  in  Eden, 
—  and  her  God  walked  in  the  Garden  in  his  wrath, 
though  Adam  heard  him  not.  In  the  midst  of  her 
retrospect  she  started,  for  she  caught  an  actual  step 
that  she  knew,  —  a  strong  man's  step  that  ground  the 
earth  as  one  who  had  a  right  to  tread;  Margery 
smoothed  the  thought  out  of  her  face,  and  went  to 
meet  him.  She  had  not  seen  him  that  day,  for  pro- 
priety had  driven  him  away  from  Vine  Lodge  as  soon 
as  his  engagement  to  her  was  announced,  and  he  was 
staying  at  Cogill's. 

"Well,  my  darling?"  Crofton  said  fondly,  with  his 
arm  round  her  shoulders.  "What  have  you  been 
doing  with  yourself?  Have  you  missed  me?" 

Vibart's  old,  invariable  question  !  She  winced  in- 
wardly at  the  ghost  that  threatened  to  stalk  perpetually 
beside  her.  I  take  it  men  are  singularly  unoriginal 
when  they  make  love,  or  pray.  Woman  and  the  Deity 
have  been  perpetually  hearing  the  same  thing  from 
the  beginning  of  speech. 

"Oh,  Clarice  —  Mrs.  Drysdale,  you  know — came 
to  tea.  How  's  the  house  getting  on,  Lanse  ?  " 

"  It  is  nearly  ready  for  its  little  mistress  !  " 

"  You  don't  ask  if  she  is  ready  for  it !  " 

"  No,  because  I  know  you  love  me  !  " 

"What  has  that  to  do  with  it? " 

"  If  you  want  me  as  I  want  you,  you  won't  keep  me 
waiting  —  " 

Margery  held  her  breath,  almost  expecting  him  to 
18 


274  The  Story  of  Eden 

say  that  they  must  be  "  all  in  all "  to  each  other.  She 
had  an  hysterical  desire  to  shriek  —  to  hurl  the  truth 
at  him  —  to  do  anything  to  escape  from  this  nightmare 
of  repetition.  Vibart  had  said  all  that,  and  more. 
Nothing  was  new  to  her ;  there  was  no  rapture  of  fresh 
bliss  that  she  had  not  tried,  and  tasted,  and  found  pall 
upon  her.  It  seemed  that  her  first  lover  had  drained 
the  language  of  fond  sentiments,  as  he  had  of  endear- 
ments. She  found  herself  looking,  with  horrible  eager- 
ness, for  a  new  name  that  Jack  had  not  robbed  of  its 
sweetness. 

"Come  round  the  garden  with  me,"  Crofton  said, 
drawing  her  closer  to  him.  "  Let 's  go  and  look  for 
violets  !  There  is  such  a  beautiful  moon  coming  up." 

"  It 's  late,  —  and  I  must  go  and  dress  for  dinner. 
Anthony  will  be  cross  if  we  are  not  ready,"  said  Mar- 
gery, wearily.  "  You  know  there  won't  be  any  violets, 
Lanse.  It 's  too  early.  And  even  if  there  were  —  they 
never  have  any  scent  now." 


CHAPTER  XV 

*  Come  slowly,  Eden  ! 

Lips  unused  to  thee, 
Bashful,  sip  thy  jasmines 
Like  the  fainting  bee" 

MARGERY  was  married  in  December,  a  short  time  be- 
fore Christmas.  The  wedding  had  been  delayed  with 
one  thing  and  another  until  the  middle  of  the  sum- 
mer, but  there  were  advantages  to  be  gained  with  the 
hot  season.  Vine  Lodge  wore  a  gala  appearance  in 
the  midst  of  its  roses  and  oleanders,  and  the  wedding 
guests  could  swarm  out  from  the  confinement  of  the 
rooms  into  the  garden.  Indeed  they  spread  onto  the 
high  banks  above  the  tennis  court,  down  into  the  vine- 
yard, through  the  fir-tree  plantation,  and  into  the 
kitchen  garden,  carrying  the  froth  of  their  conversation 
and  the  wedding  champagne  even  among  the  mealies, 
for  they  were  a  goodly  company.  Madge  had  philosoph- 
ically decided  that  as  she  would  only  run  the  risk  of 
one  more  uproar  from  her  brother,  and  would  probably 
be  beyond  the  reach  of  his  tongue  when  the  storm 
broke,  she  would  for  once  launch  out,  and  recklessly 
sent  invitations  to  half  the  suburbs.  They  all  came, 
from  Simon's  Town  even  out  to  Green  Point,  and  Vine 
Lodge  was  strained  to  accommodate  a  full  measure, 
pressed  down  and  running  over.  It  was  a  warm  day,  a 
day  of  ideal  summer,  such  as  the  English  only  talk  of  in 
England  and  hardly  ever  experience.  As  Madge  put 
on  her  wedding-dress  she  looked  out  of  her  window, 

"  And  saw  the  sky 

As  blue  a-  Aaron's  priestly  robe  appeared 
To  Aaron  —  when  he  took  it  off  to  die." 


276  The  Story  of  Eden 

Her  bedroom  overlooked  the  wide  green  stretch  of 
country  which,  in  its  virginal  freshness,  had  first  put  her 
in  mind  of  the  Garden  of  Eden.  It  was  the  same 
view  upon  which  she  had  looked  on  that  morning  after 
Vibart's  unexpected  return,  and  the  ensnarement  of  the 
vineyard.  She  looked  at  it  for  the  last  time  as  she  ar- 
rayed herself  with  Mrs.  Drysdale's  assistance,  and  the 
smiling  sunlit  earth,  teeming  with  multitudinous  life 
and  fertility,  struck  her  with  a  sudden  sense  of  beauty 
and  sympathy.  She  realised  that  the  familiarity  of  the 
scene  had  endeared  it  to  her,  and  that  she  should  miss 
it  as  the  face  of  a  friend. 

"I  do  hope  you  won't  lose  your  colour,  Madge," 
Clarice  said  anxiously.  "You  make  such  a  pretty 
bride  as  you  are,  but  if  you  get  nervous  and  grow  white 
you  will  look  as  if  you  were  fading  into  your  dress." 

"There  won't  be  much  chance  for  me  under  all 
this  veil ;  I  am  nearly  suffocated  with  the  heat  as  it 
is  !  "  said  the  bride,  looking  at  her  image  in  the  glass, 
and  speaking  lightly  to  stifle  the  upbraiding  conscience 
which  was  again  loud  in  her  ears.  Her  cheeks  were 
hot  with  excitement,  and  her  blue  eyes  with  fright. 
"  I  will  not  draw  back  !  I  cannot  draw  back  !  "  she 
repeated  endlessly ;  and  her  heart  seemed  to  respond, 
"  You  are  no  bride,  but  a  living  lie."  It  had  not  been 
so  difficult  to  thrust  all  scruples  into  the  background, 
during  the  busy  full  days  of  her  engagement ;  she  had 
caught  at  happiness  eagerly,  and  contrary  to  the  theo- 
retical way  of  transgressors,  had  found  it  easy  and 
satisfying.  Besides,  before  the  thing  was  absolutely 
done,  she  could  shift  her  responsibility,  did  conscience 
prick  too  hard,  by  a  feint  at  even  now  turning  back. 
Madge's  wholesome  healthy  nature  did  not  entice  her 
to  brood ;  she  demanded  happiness  by  instinct  as  the 
proper  state  of  humanity,  as  all  creatures  not  diseased 
by  morbid  creeds  and  education  do  demand  it.  It  was 
only  in  a  crisis  in  her  existence  that  she  was  overcome 


The  Story  of  Eden  277 

by  inherited  superstition  to  think  that  her  recoil  from 
pain  was  a  thing  to  be  overcome  and  striven  against. 
Apart  from  the  accusations  of  her  wedding-morning, 
her  emotions  were  those  of  any  other  woman,  —  who  is 
a  widow.  There  was  an  inevitable  comparison,  and 
forecasting  one  experience  from  another,  which,  if  she 
had  had  an  open  right  to  her  widowhood,  would  have 
been  merely  natural. 

A  summer  wedding  in  the  suburbs  is  rather  a  pretty 
sight,  because  the  men  mostly  wear  light  suits  and 
straw  hats,  and  none  of  the  women  venture  on  any- 
thing more  sober  than  a  full-blooded  violet.  Madge 
was  married  in  the  old  grey  church  at  Kenilworth,  to 
which  she  had  to  drive  a  mile,  but  which  was  infinitely 
preferable  in  its  mellow  greys  and  greens  to  the  bald 
building  opposite  the  Camp  meadows,  which  was 
obligingly  rendered  further  impossible  by  alterations 
which  were  taking  place  in  the  roof.  The  sunlight 
which  stares  down  the  blank  walls  of  this  hideous  little 
building  is  softened  to  a  more  becoming  radiance  in 
the  sanctified  gloom  at  Kenilworth,  and  the  congrega- 
tion there  present  had  their  feelings  soothed  instead  of 
harrowed  during  the  ceremony. 

"We  are  all  doomed  to  greasiness  by  the  heat  in 
any  case,"  Polly  Harbord  said  candidly.  "  But  at 
least  it  will  not  be  so  woefully  apparent  as  it  would 
have  been  at  Wynberg." 

As  Margery  settled  herself  in  the  carriage  after  the 
service,  to  drive  back  to  Vine  Lodge,  she  turned  fever- 
ishly to  her  new-made  husband.  "  Lanse,  let  us  have 
the  windows  down,  please  !  "  she  said.  "  It  is  so  — 
hot." 

"Are  you  faint,  dear?"  he  said  anxiously,  as  he  did 
as  she  desired. 

"  A  little  —  it  was  the  smell  of  the  flowers.  I  shall 
be  all  right  in  a  minute.  No,  please,  don't  touch  me 
yet  —  let  me  breathe." 


2y  8  The  Story  of  Eden 

She  threw  back  her  veil  and  leaned  towards  the  open 
window.  The  carriage  was  forced  to  pass  along  the 
main  road,  avoiding  the  tram  lines  as  best  might  be. 
A  group  of  Kaffir  children  stood  on  the  dusty  sideway 
under  the  sun-smitten  fir-trees;  they  clapped  and 
cheered  as  they  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  bride.  Mar- 
gery shrank  back,  her  gaze  resting  vaguely  on  the 
winding,  picturesque  road,  dappled  with  the  black 
shadows  of  the  trees,  and  the  patches  of  strong  white 
sunshine.  Crofton  put  his  arm  round  her  as  she 
withdrew  from  the  window,  and  said,  "  My  wife  !  " 
his  voice  sunk  to  the  full-throated  depth  of  sudden 
feeling. 

"My  wife  !  " — Not  even  did  this  come  for  the  first 
time  to  ears  robbed  of  its  sacredness  by  the  thieving 
whisper  of  another  voice.  It  was  her  punishment,  that, 
at  a  moment  which  should  have  been  all  her  husband's 
in  its  full  tenderness,  she  should,  in  a  flash  of  fancy,  be 
back  in  a  shaded  room,  singing  at  the  piano  —  some 
one  opened  a  door  and  said  a  name  —  a  brilliant 
gleaming  figure  was  coming  towards  her  —  two  strong 
arms  caught  her  up,  and  a  gay  voice  struggled  in  her 
memory  with  Crofton's  — 

"  Little  wife  !  " 

She  turned  to  her  real  companion  and  kissed  him  al- 
most desperately,  thrusting  the  ghost  of  a  dead  yester- 
day aside. 

Crofton  took  Margery  Up  Country  for  their  honey- 
moon. It  was  a  somewhat  rough  experience,  but  one 
which  she  had  coveted.  They  covered  many  more 
miles  than  most  honeymooners,  owing  to  the  vast  char- 
acteristics of  the  country,  and  Margery  found  her  im- 
pressions of  the  continent,  in  which  she  had  lived  for 
two  years,  undergoing  a  rapid  enlargement.  Her  ex- 
perience of  Colonial  cities  being  limited  to  Cape  Town, 
Johannesburg  and  Durban  and  Port  Elizabeth  were 


The  Story  of  Eden  279 

somewhat  unexpected.  But,  better  than  the  towns 
themselves,  with  their  florid  pretensions  to  civilisation, 
she  liked  the  vast  stoniness  of  the  Karroo,  and  the 
sense  of  space  which  the  open  veld  gave  her.  Some 
kinship  to  this  giant  foster-country,  into  which  Fate  had 
tossed  her  hap- hazard,  was  always  in  her  soul,  from  the 
first  premonition  among  the  silences  of  Hout's  Bay. 
She  had  a  curiously  engrafted  feeling  upon  Africa,  a  sus- 
picion that  the  actual  expanding  of  her  lungs,  in  its  un- 
limited miles  of  uncontaminated  air,  was  an  outward 
and  visible  symbol  of  the  widening  of  her  soul  since 
her  detachment  from  a  safe  band-box  life  in  England. 
It  had  been  a  painful  development ;  the  emancipation 
had  at  one  time  felt  like  being  utterly  lost  in  a  fathom- 
less firmament ;  but  when  her  soul  had  regained  the 
sense  of  its  own  orbit,  the  immense  freedom  remained, 
with  better  fixed  and  more  dependable  boundaries. 

Crofton  had  business  in  Johannesburg,  and  they 
stayed  there  longer  than  in  the  other  towns.  He  went 
about  and  talked  with  old  acquaintances  —  men  he 
knew,  —  and  gathered  impressions.  He  had  his  own 
opinion,  which  did  not  tally  with  that  of  most  Johan- 
nesburg men,  and  began  to  slowly  adjust  his  affairs  with 
a  comprehensive  view  of  the  Transvaal  Government.  A 
few  men  in  South  Africa  were  beginning  to  detach 
their  interests  from  the  country,  in  those  days ;  Crofton 
was  probably  among  the  very  first,  but  his  prudence 
was  newly  born.  During  that  period  of  his  life  which 
was  lived  in  Johannesburg,  he  was  known  as  a  daring 
speculator,  —  one  of  the  coolest,  most  successful,  and 
keenest  gamblers  over  the  mines.  Like  many  men,  his 
marriage  had  opened  a  new  terror  to  him,  on  which  he 
had  never  bestowed  a  thought  before  ;  he  was  haunted 
by  a  fear  that  he  would  die  and  leave  Madge  unpro- 
vided for  —  a  fear  which  usually  attacks  men  with  small 
incomes,  after  the  honeymoon.  Crofton's  income  was 
not  small,  but  his  investments  were  almost  entirely  made 


280  The  Story  of  Eden 

in  the  country  which  he  knew,  and  about  whose  re- 
sources he  could  use  his  judgment.  He  enjoyed  the 
management  of  his  own  affairs, —  a  speculation  here,  a 
disposing  of  risky  shares,  held  just  long  enough  to  make 
it  a  profitable  transaction,  there, —  according  to  his  own 
excellent  knowledge,  just  as  any  man  does  the  exercise 
of  an  undeniable  talent.  Crofton's  knowledge  had  been 
acquired  with  care  and  study,  but  his  use  of  it  was  a 
gift  which  he  could  not  have  gained  with  a  life's  ex- 
perience. Margery  did  not  know,  until  long  after- 
wards, that,  during  her  wedding  tour,  her  husband  re- 
constructed his  affairs  sufficiently  to  leave  her  property 
soundly  based  on  investments  slow  and  sure  enough  to 
have  satisfied  a  trustee,  and  had  he  died  a  month  after 
his  marriage  she  would  have  found  herself  possessed  of 
an  income  which  would  not  fluctuate  with  the  glorious 
uncertainty  attendant  on  the  fortunes  of  Johannesburg. 

Some  vague  outline  of  possibilities  loomed  in  his 
musing  conversation  with  Madge  while  on  their  return 
journey. 

"Well,  how  have  you  enjoyed  the  trip?"  he  said. 
They  were  returning  by  train,  neither  of  them  being 
very  good  sailors. 

"  Oh,  immensely !  I  like  seeing  new  places,  and 
Africa  interests  me.  What  enormous  possibilities  there 
are  in  the  country  ! " 

"  Yes.  You  would  n't  rather  have  gone  Home  for  a 
honeymoon  then?" 

"  No  — "  Madge  spoke  with  her  usual  decision  when 
she  had  had  occasion  to  make  up  her  mind.  "  I  should 
like  to  go  Home  some  day,  and  introduce  you  to  my 
people ;  but  for  my  honeymoon,  I  infinitely  prefer  to 
have  you  to  myself —  in  the  Karroo." 

"  It 's  large  enough  for  us  both,  anyway,  and  not  over 
populated,"  Crofton  said,  with  a  satisfied  laugh.  "  Who 
are  your  people,  Madge  darling?  I  hardly  knew  that 
you  had  any." 


The  Story  of  Eden  281 

"I  haven't,  at  least  they  are  small  and  few.  I  have 
two  impossible  aunts ;  one  is  the  widow  of  a  clergy- 
man, and  the  other  is  devoted  to  Homoeopathy  and  the 
Book  of  Job.  They  are  my  father's  sisters,  and  some- 
how they  seem  more  Anthony's  aunts  than  mine.  But 
I  always  lived  with  them  until  I  came  out  here.  Can 
you  imagine  what  a  change  I  found  it  from  a  sleepy 
country  town  —  and  the  Book  of  Job?" 

"  Was  there  much  of  Job  about  it,  then?  " 

"  Not  latterly,  but  all  my  childhood  is  associated 
with  boils  and  wailing  —  I  don't  know  why,  but  that  is 
all  that  occurs  to  me  when  I  think  of  Job.  Aunt  Mary 
used  always  to  read  me  portions  of  Scripture  on  Sun- 
day afternoon.  I  can  see  the  sleepy,  hazy  world  out- 
side those  closed  drawing-room  windows  now,  —  the 
green  living  world  at  which  I  was  never  supposed  to 
look.  I  do  think  it  is  cruel  to  bore  children  with  Bible 
stories,  don't  you  ?  All  the  interesting  parts  are  slurred 
over,  because  they  are  so  improper,  and  the  poor 
things  get  the  bald  outlines  of  Joseph  in  the  pit  — 
Esau's  mess  of  pottage  —  Abraham  and  Isaac.  If  I 
ever  —  I  mean  if  there  were  —  " 

She  broke  down  into  helpless  glorious  confusion. 
Lansing  looked  up,  laughing  wickedly,  and  drew  her 
to  him.  "  Go  on,  if  there  were  —  well?  "  he  said. 

"  —  they  should  never  be  told  Bible  history  as 
stories  —  a  powder-in-jam  kind  of  trick,  I  always  think 
it,  that  breaks  down  in  the  very  telling,  for  you  are 
bound  to  add,  '  It  is  all  true,  you  know,'  which  does 
away  with  the  story." 

"  I  hope  '  they '  will  appreciate  their  emancipation, 
that 's  all.  Are  n't  you  rather  previous,  Madge?  " 

"  Lanse,  I  do  think  it  is  horrid  of  you  to  take  it  per- 
sonally. I  was  merely  generalising." 

"It  seems  a  heating  process.  Look  at  these 
cheeks  !  "  She  smuggled  her  flushed  face  against  his 
shoulder  and  said,  "  Tell  me  about  your  own  belong- 
ings ! " 


282  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  I  Ve  got  an  old  father  down  in  Norfolk.  I  wrote 
and  told  him  about  my  marriage,  and  I  expect  his 
answer  will  greet  us  at  the  Rosary.  He  is  a  crusty  old 
chap,  nearly  bed-ridden.  I  have  n't  seen  him  for  ten 
years." 

"  Did  n't  you  ever  go  Home,  Lanse  ?  " 

"No,  there  was  nothing  to  go  for,  and  everything  to 
be  gained  by  staying  here  and  sticking  to  business.  I 
had  quarrelled  with  some  of  the  family,  too,  and  did  n't 
want  to  meet  them." 

"  Have  you  brothers?  " 

"  Yes.  I  'm  the  third  son.  I  don't  care  much 
about  them,  or  they  for  me.  We  are  all  too  firmly 
fixed  in  our  own  opinions  to  get  on." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it !  But  I  think  I  should  be  civil  to 
them  if  I  were  you.  There  is  something  so  underbred 
in  quarrelling  with  relations.  It  is  like  discussing  your 
private  affairs  in  public,  for  these  things  advertise 
themselves.  If  you  can't  get  on,  you  can  surely  hold 
your  peace  ! " 

"  But  if  you  do  that  they  think  they  are  in  the 
right." 

"  Never  mind,  it  does  n't  matter  what  they  think. 
An  armed  peace  seems  to  me  a  positive  necessity  in  a 
family.  Don't  please  quarrel  with  Anthony,  whatever 
you  do  !  He  is  trying,  but  I  managed  to  live  with  him 
for  two  years,  and  you  are  only  in  the  same  neighbour- 
hood." 

"  I  shall  probably  leave  him  alone  so  long  as  he  does 
me.  I  think  we  '11  go  Home  in  the  spring,  Madge  —  I 
mean  the  English  autumn.  It  may  be  as  well." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  I  think  there  's  going  to  be  a  row  —  things  are 
drawing  to  a  head,  that 's  all.  I  should  like  to  take 
you  Home  first  anyhow,  and  settle  you  in  England, 
whether  I  came  out  again  and  went  into  the  thick  of  it 
(as  I  own  I  should  like)  or  no.  The  position  in 


The  Story  of  Eden  283 

Johannesburg  has  been  untenable  for  some  time,  and 
either  the  Transvaal  Government  must  reform  the  Civil 
Service,  or — " 

"  Do  you  mean  that  we  shall  go  to  war?  " 
"  I  very  much  doubt  if  they  would  fight.  They 
might,  of  course,  and  then  —  well,  I  can't  say." 
"  Surely  you  don't  think  we  should  be  beaten  !  " 
"  I  don't  doubt  our  men,  my  dear.  What  I  doubt  is 
the  Home  Government.  They  have  never  taken  us  very 
seriously.  It  will  take  a  good  deal  of  prodding  to  wake 
them  up  to  the  fact  that  there  is  a  necessity  for  action, 
and  while  they  are  still  rubbing  their  eyes,  the  Transvaal 
will  be  making  preparations.  Then  we  shall,  in  a 
leisurely  fashion,  begin  to  dribble  out  troops,  and  in 
the  mean  time  Cape  Colony  will  be  fermenting  on  its 
own  account.  That  is  where  the  real  disaster  might 
occur.  It  is  just  possible  that  after  the  row  is  settled, 
they  may  understand  the  meaning  of  Progressists  and 
Bondmen  in  England." 

Margery  opened  her  eyes.  Lanse  very  seldom 
stated  his  convictions,  but  when  he  did  speak  they  had 
a  way  of  being  both  forcible  and  surprising.  She  had 
heard  plenty  of  the  politics  of  the  country,  but  hitherto 
they  had  been  flavoured  by  the  atmospheric  influence 
of  Cape  Town ;  she  was  getting  a  glimpse  of  another 
point  of  view  in  the  lurid  light  of  Johannesburg.  Men 
stood  nearer  to  the  trouble  there,  and  felt  it  always 
brewing.  Furthermore,  separated  as  they  were  from 
the  immediate  supervision  of  a  British  Government, 
they  lost  the  sense  of  things  British,  and  did  not  feel, 
her  power  by  any  means  omnipotent.  Crofton  was 
very  English  in  the  soul  of  him,  but  he  had  rubbed  off 
his  insular  faith  in  the  Island,  and  saw  her  at  sufficient 
distance  to  realise  her  limits.  The  most  hopeful  point 
in  the  matter,  to  his  mind,  was  the  underestimation  in 
which  he  believed  the  Dutch  to  hold  the  military 
strength  of  England.  Those  living  on  the  spot,  and 


284  The  Story  of  Eden 

with  traditional  failures  fresh  in  their  minds,  did  not, 
however,  realise  that  England  might  also  underestimate 
the  military  strength  of  the  Dutch.  But  it  was  an  un- 
developed speculation  to  Crofton  on  his  wedding  tour, 
and  one  which  only  weighed  in  influencing  him  to 
secure  himself  against  a  possible  mischance. 

Almost  the  first  person  whom  Margery  encountered  on 
her  return  was  Beaumont  Livingston.  He  had  come  out 
again,  he  said,  because  they  had  fallen  into  a  disgusting 
habit  of  east  winds  in  England,  and  the  doctor  ordered 
him  off  to  warmer  lands.  A  suspiciously  weak  chest 
lurked  under  Beau's  immaculate  shirtfronts,  and  was 
the  only  traitor  to  him  in  exposing  him  as  a  delicate 
man,  despite  his  even  health  and  active  habits. 

"  The  draughts  on  the  steamer  were  enough  to  doom 
a  Hercules,"  he  said  to  Madge.  "  I  caught  a  cold 
and  lost  my  temper, —  two  things  I  could  well  have  re- 
versed to  my  own  satisfaction.  The  stewards  always 
left  the  saloon  doors  open  too;  I  daresay  you  have 
observed  that  stewards  are  natural  murderers,  just  as 
people  on  board  are  natural  thieves.  (I  lost  most  of 
my  rugs,  and  all  my  books  and  papers,  by  the  way.)  It 
is  something  in  the  sea  air  induces  it." 

"  I  am  glad  we  did  n't  come  back  from  Durban  by 
sea.  We  brought  several  Karosses  Up  Country,  and  I 
should  have  been  sorry  to  lose  them." 

"  You  would  n't  possess  one  now,  if  you  had.  I  can- 
not think  why  they  do  not  add  a  few  private  detectives 
and  a  policeman  to  their  staff  on  board.  I  shall  sug- 
gest it  to  Donald  Currie.  He  is  a  man  who  is  espe- 
cially quick  to  see  a  great  idea  and  pounce  upon  it.  I 
only  meant  to  go  to  Madeira,  but  the  New  Hotel 
looked  cold,  and  I  knew  no  one  there,  and  it  rained,  and 
somehow  before  I  knew  where  I  was  we  had  stopped 
in  Cape  Town  docks.  Most  annoying  !  So  you  are 
married  ?  How  very  enterprising  that  was  of  you  !  "* 

"  Was  n't  it !     Have  you  met  my  husband  ?  " 


The  Story  of  Eden  285 

"  Yes,  he  seems  to  be  a  nice  fellow  ;  but  you  would 
know  best  of  course.  I  don't  wish  to  be  hasty.  Why 
did  n't  you  wait  for  me?  " 

"There  was  too  much  competition,"  said  Madge, 
gravely,  suppressing  the  faintest  suspicion  of  dimples. 
"  If  I  had  married  you  I  should  have  expected  all  my 
friends  to  ask  me  to  tea  and  poison  it." 

"  Like  Mrs.  Naseby's  story  of  the  girls  who  all  wanted 
to  nurse  her  when  she  fell  ill.  '  No,  thank  you,  my 
dears,'  she  used  to  say.  'You  are  all  too  fond  of 
Reggie.'  You  would  n't  fancy  any  one  being  too  fond 
of  Reggie,  would  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  can't  say  Mr.  Naseby  attracts  me.  I  should 
not  have  decided  on  him  as  the  motive  for  the  crime, 
if  any  one  had  poisoned  Mrs.  Naseby." 

"  No,  I  think  she  might  have  looked  nearer  home. 
I  have  sometimes  felt  that  to  choke  her  would  be  a  good 
and  useful  act.  Apropos  of  nothing,  Madge,  I  am 
going  to  use  your  Christian  name,  now  that  you  are 
married.  A  married  woman  is  so  much  more  defence- 
less than  a  girl,  that  it  is  ridiculous  to  be  formal  with 
her." 

"  Very  well.     Do  you  expect  — " 

"Winter  sunsets  in  England  are  over-rated,"  re- 
marked Beau,  with  his  eyes  fixed  steadily  upon  her  face. 
"  No,  I  don't  expect.  Expectation  is  for  fools.  My 
knowledge  of  your  sex  amounts  to  certainty." 

"  I  did  n't  want  to  do  anything  which  you  might 
have  regarded  as  questionable  taste,"  said  Madge, 
frankly. 

"  You  could  not." 

"  Thank  you.  Well,  of  course  you  must  know  that 
we  all  call  you  Beau  behind  your  back  !  " 

"  How  very  charming  of  you  !  My  own  beauty  has, 
of  course,  always  been  patent  to  me.  Still  it  is  nice  to 
have  such  an  opinion  so  delicately  confirmed." 

"  And  you  know,"  Margery  remarked,  when  she  re- 


286  The  Story  of  Eden 

peated  the  incident  for  Mrs.  Drysdale's  entertainment, 
"  I  felt  there  was  some  truth  even  in  his  nonsense.  He 
really  is  beautiful,  Clarice.  I  thought  so  more  than 
ever,  yesterday." 

"  He  is  looking  very  well  just  now,"  Mrs.  Drysdale 
admitted.  "  The  voyage  set  him  up,  but  I  am  afraid 
he  was  really  ill  before  he  left  England,  poor  old  fellow. 
No  one  realises  that  Beau  can  have  a  weakness,  but  his 
lungs  are  not  sound,  really." 

"  He  always  seems  so  well." 

"Yes,  and  his  spirits  are  so  good.  But  it  is  one  of 
the  tragedies  of  this  place,  to  me,  that  many  of  our 
nicest,  brightest  friends  and  acquaintances  —  those  who 
are  readiest  for  everything  and  never  seem  to  tire  — 
could  not  be  the  same  everywhere.  Mrs.  Redmayne, 
for  instance,  can't  live  in  England ;  the  damp  kills  her. 
It  is  just  as  if  they  were  buoyed  up  by  the  African  sun- 
shine. And  yet  how  gay  we  all  are  !  " 

Clarice  had  dropped  in  at  the  Rosary  in  passing,  and 
caught  Madge  in  the  garden.  They  were  standing 
among  the  standard  roses,  talking,  and  overlooking  the 
Camp  road,  for  the  garden  was  an  old  Dutch  Tuin, 
built  in  terraces,  and  the  gate  was  on  a  lower  level 
down  various  flights  of  steps.  Margery  revelled  in  the 
garden ;  it  was  full  of  flowers  and  fruit,  and  the  natural 
luxuriance  of  growing  things  in  that  climate  had  caused 
them  to  overflow  the  prim  Dutch  borders  and  make  a 
fair  wilderness  in  which  she  could  wander. 

"Where's  Mr.  Crofton?"  Clarice  asked,  as  she 
turned  reluctantly  towards  the  gate.  "  It 's  so  nice  and 
cool  here  I  don't  want  to  go  back  into  that  hot  dusty 
road." 

"  He  's  ridden  over  to  the  wine  farm.  You  have  no 
idea  what  a  great  resource  that  wine  farm  is !  He 
would  be  wretched  with  nothing  to  do,  and  he  has  great 
ideas  of  making  it  pay." 

"  I  daresay  he  will.  He  is  a  very  sensible  man,  any- 
way. You  look  much  better,  Madge  1 " 


The  Story  of  Eden  287 

"  I  was  n't  ill,  Clarice  —  only  the  wedding  fagged  me, 
rather." 

"  I  don't  mean  that.  You  have  lost  the  hard  look 
and  ways  about  which  I  warned  you." 

"  I  am  very  happy  !  " 

"  Ah  !  you  are  finding  out  that  what  I  said  was 
true." 

"Clarice,  do  you  think  it  can  last?" 

"Of  course  it  can  —  unless  you  expect  your  whole 
life  to  be  exactly  like  your  honeymoon.  Then  you  will 
be  disappointed." 

"  Oh,  no  —  I  don't  mean  that.  I  — should  n't  like  it ! 
I  know  it  sounds  odd,  but  I  think  I  like  the  quiet 
affection  of  every-day  life  better  than  being  always 
in  extremes.  Of  course  you  must  be  for  a  little  while, 
but  it  's  very  comfortable  to  settle  down." 

"That  will  last,  dear,  anyway." 

"  Will  it  ?  Do  you  think  any  human  being  is  ever 
allowed  to  be  perfectly  happy  for  long  ?  Oh,  Clarice,  I 
am  content  with  very  little  !  I  don't  think  I  ever  asked 
very  much  of  life.  I  am  not  very  ambitious,  even 
socially.  I  like  to  know  nice  people,  but  I  never  aimed 
at  being  in  with  the  Government  House  set,  as  so  many 
women  here  do.  My  home  and  my  husband  are  quite 
sufficient  for  me,  and  would  be  so  even  if  Lanse  had 
been  a  poor  man,  so  long  as  we  cared  for  each  other. 
I  only  want  to  be  happy  and  content  in  my  own  small 
way ! " 

Her  voice  was  almost  passionate  with  the  supersti- 
tious fear  which  haunts  human  beings  who  have  seen 
their  treasures  in  danger  of  being  swept  from  them  by 
a  ruthless  power  of  which  they  may  not  ask  questions. 
The  inward  dread  that  she  had  no  right  to  the  happi- 
ness she  had  taken  sometimes  beset  Margery.  She  held 
her  breath  lest  Providence  should  be  angry  at  her  pre- 
sumption and  bring  her  beautiful  palace  of  delight 
tumbling  down  about  her  ears.  Yet  she  had,  as  she 


288  The  Story  of  Eden 

said,  been  very  happy  in  her  marriage,  with  a  warm 
increasing  home-happiness  which  she  rightly  treasured. 
She  felt  so  secure  in  her  husband's  Jove,  and  her  own 
escape  from  the  past ;  and  as  yet  no  premonition  of 
any  slur  cast  on  her  name  had  reached  her.  She 
walked  with  closed  eyes  and  ears  in  her  golden  dream, 
unconscious  that  her  secret  had  even  been  suspicioned 
in  the  most  remote  fashion. 

"  One  almost  feels  that  if  one  asks  so  little,  Provi- 
dence must  be  propitious.  But  one  can't  say  —  one 
can't  say  !  "  Mrs.  Drysdale  said  slowly.  "  Look  at  poor 
V.  C.  !  He  didn't  ask  very  much  —  he  was  only  weak 
where  a  woman  was  concerned,  and  if  she  made  him 
think  she  understood  him  and  appreciated  him,  he  was 
like  wax  in  her  hands.  V.  C.  always  fancied  himself 
an  exceptional  man,  and  it  has  been  his  disaster.  He 
was  only  over-sensitive  and  easily  managed ;  but  the 
Gods'  sense  of  humour  strikes  me  as  a  grim  one  in  his 
case  !  —  There 's  a  cycle  going  by,  Madge,  —  two  of 
them  !  Who  is  it  ?  " 

"  Polly  Harbord  and  some  man.  Polly !  Polly ! 
Are  n't  you  coming  in?" 

She  ran  along  the  terrace  and  looked  over  the  hedge 
to  nod  good-morning,  her  face  smiling  out  from  a  frame 
of  plumbago,  for  the  delicate  blue  flowers  made  a  screen 
between  the  garden  and  the  road. 

"  Yes,  I  'm  coming  !  "  called  Polly,  gaily.  "  How  are 
you?  Where  shall  1  put  the  bicycle?" 

"  Leave  it  inside  the  gate.  Come  along  —  Mrs. 
Drysdale  is  here  !  " 

"  Well,  how  are  you  both  !  "  Polly  said  as  she  ran  up 
the  steps.  She  looked  her  usual  cool  smart  self,  though 
her  face  was  flushed  with  the  heat.  "  Is  n't  it  a  day  ! 
Are  you  glad  to  get  back,  Madge  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  it  was  awfully  interesting.  Have  you  been 
doing  much?  I  was  sorry  to  miss  the  Sapper's  ball. 
Was  it  good  ?  " 


The  Story  of  Eden  289 

"  Yes,  awfully  jolly.  Mrs.  Hand-painted  Lady  came 
in  no  clothes  to  speak  of,  and  Lilla  Cayley  was  there 
too  —  in  the  supper-room.  I  was  sorry  for  V.  C. 
They  could  n't  get  her  out." 

"  Poor  fellow  !  It  makes  my  heart  ache  the  more  I 
hear  of  Mr.  Cayley's  domestic  affairs.  Who  was  with 
you  just  now,  Polly?  " 

"  Teddy  Barton.  He  caught  me  up  just  outside 
Vine  Lodge.  I  say,  Madge,  it 's  such  a  joke  !  Did 
you  know  your  brother  was  taken  captive  by  the  Hand- 
painted  One  and  paraded  all  round  the  paddock  at  the 
kst  gymkana  ?  " 

""Anthony  !  —  at  a  race  meeting  !  " 

"  Yes,  and  with  Mrs.  Cromo  Dame.  Oh,  she  made 
him  go,  depend  upon  it !  I  asked  him  what  tribe  of 
insects  he  was  studying  at  Kenilworth,  and  he  smiled 
his  ugliest  and  said  butterflies  and  caddis-worms  !  — 
caddish-worms,  see  ?  I  had  no  idea  that  he  knew  how 
to  apply  his  natural  rudeness  so  well !  " 

"  But  I  can't  get  over  it ! "  said  Madge,  gasping. 
"  Blanche  must  be  a  clever  woman  !  " 

"  She  will  be  too  clever  for  the  Professor,  if  he  does  n't 
look  out.  Ah,  by  the  way,  Teddy  told  me  some  news. 
You  know  the  Duke's  Colonel  was  ill  ?" 

"  Poor  old  man  !  Yes,  the  Subs  said  the  War  Office 
meant  to  finish  him  off  out  here.  Is  he  worse?  " 

"  Dead  !  " 

"  Good  Heavens  !  The  second  in  eighteen  months  I 
The  Duke's  will  get  a  name  for  finishing  their  chiefs  ! " 

"  He  caught  typhoid,"  said  Polly,  in  explanation. 
"  They  think  the  Camp  was  unhealthy,  and  it  is  being 
moved,  or  seen  to  or  something,  now  it 's  too  late. 
Several  of  the  men  had  a  touch  of  fever,  and  I  suppose 
the  Colonel  was  in  bad  health,  as  his  was  the  only  fatal 
case.  Have  you  heard  who  is  to  take  his  place?  " 

«  No  —  " 

"  Jack  Vibart.     It 's  nearly  sure,  though  I  don't  know 


290  The  Story  of  Eden 

if  it 's  Official  yet.  But  he  has  got  his  promotion,  and 
in  all  probability  will  come  out  again  as  Colonel.  Is  n't 
he  lucky  !" 

Margery  was  hardly  aware  of  drawing  a  breath  before 
she  heard  her  own  laugh,  and  her  voice  saying  natu- 
rally, "  Well,  at  all  events  I  am  glad  it  is  some  one  we 
know  !  It  will  be  much  nicer  to  have  Major  Vibart 
than  a  stranger."  She  had  the  desperate  feeling  that 
whatever  happened  she  must  save  the  pause  she  dreaded 
after  Polly's  announcement. 

"  He  is  coming  out  at  once  —  I  should  think  he 
would  start  as  soon  as  he  is  officially  appointed,"  Polly 
added  carelessly.  "Are  you  playing  in  the  Duke's 
Tennis  Tournament,  Mrs.  Drysdale?  You  know  the 
Rutlandshires  are  lending  the  Camp  ground,  Madge?  " 

"  No,  are  they  ?  I  am  glad.  It  is  such  a  pretty 
garden,  and  I  do  like  things  going  on  at  Camp.  We 
have  been  dreadfully  dull  since  the  Duke's  went." 

Madge  spoke  mechanically  still.  She  kept  her  smil- 
ing face  until  her  chance  guests  departed,  and  stood  on 
the  steps  watching  them  off  down  the  road,  and  calling 
a  laughing  farewell  after  them.  Then  she  turned  slowly 
back  through  the  roses,  and  went  into  the  house  and  up 
to  her  own  room.  She  examined  her  face  in  the  glass 
anxiously;  had  she  betrayed  the  least  disturbance,  she 
feared  Polly's  sharp  eyes,  but  the  mask  of  soft  youth 
and  health  which  Nature  had  given  her  was  her  safest 
guard.  "  I  know  I  did  not  change  colour  —  that  was 
the  only  thing  to  fear,"  she  thought,  moving  restlessly 
about  the  room.  "But  who  would  have  thought  of  — 
this  !  It  seems  impossible.  In  my  wildest  moments, 
when  I  imagined  what  evil  trick  Fate  could  play  me, 
I  never  thought  of  his  coming  out  again.  And  yet  how 
natural !  I  might  have  expected  it."  With  an  impa- 
tient movement,  as  if  to  be  still  were  impossible,  she 
tossed  some  pretty  frippery  on  the  table  on  one  side, 
and  disclosed  the  little  brown  poetry  book  which  by 


The  Story  of  Eden  291 

chance  she  had  left  lying  there.  Madge  had  meant  to 
destroy  the  volume  on  her  marriage,  but  it  was  some- 
what difficult  to  burn  a  whole,  strongly  bound  book  in 
the  small  grates  and  seldom  lighted  fires  of  her  brother's 
house,  and  she  feared  comment.  She  had  kept  it  for  a 
better  opportunity.  Now,  as  she  turned  the  leaves  and 
read  his  name  on  the  titlepage  in  that  unknown  woman's 
handwriting,  it  occurred  to  her  that  she  could  send  it 
back  to  Vibart  and  then  her  eyes  fell  on  this  — 

"  I  cried  for  madder  music  and  for  stronger  wine ; 
But  when  the  feast  is  finished  and  the  lamps  expire, 
Then  falls  thy  shadow,  .  .  .  the  night  is  thine ; 
And  I  am  desolate  and  sick  of  an  old  passion  —  " 

She  flung  it  from  her,  shuddering.  That  morbid  sen- 
sual cry  of  a  soul  reverting  to  its  lost  gods  sickened 
her.  "  I  have  been  faithful  to  thee  —  in  my  fashion." 
It  was  like  a  hideous  reproach  to  her.  She  looked 
mentally  from  her  present  to  her  past,  and  it  seemed 
to  her  that  she  had  been  faithful  to  neither  of  the  men 
whom  she  had  professed  to  love.  That  old  doubt  of 
the  reality  of  her  own  emotions  which  had  made  her 
aghast  in  the  first  re-action  of  her  feeling  for  Vibart, 
beset  her  again  suddenly. 

"  And  I  was  desolate  and  sick  of  an  old  passion, — 
Yea,  hungry  for  the  lips  of  my  desire ! " 

This  lurid,  debauched  confession  of  sexual  experiences 
had  yet  a  tardy  merit  of  faith  to  a  first  love  — 

"  I  have  been  faithful  to  thee,  Cynara,  in  my  fashion." 

It  appeared,  somehow,  terrible  to  Madge  that  she  had 
no  least  attraction  towards  Vibart  left.  New-made 
wife  though  she  was,  she  felt  as  if  her  very  absorp- 
tion in  Crofton  stripped  her  of  the  least  excuse  for 
that  former  passion.  She  could  not  recall  a  grain 
of  sentiment  for  Vibart;  the  whole  experience  only 
seemed  to  her  horrible  and  vulgar.  She  wondered 


292  The  Story  of  Eden 

how  she  could  have  felt  as  she  must  have  done  to 
make  it  possible,  ...  as  she  ought  to  have  felt  once 
and  for  always  to  make  it  pardonable  to  her  jangled 
conscience. 

"  I  have  not  even  been  faithful  —  in  my  fashion  !  "  she 
said  half  recklessly,  locking  the  book  up  in  a  drawer. 
"  I  seem  to  have  a  horrible,  degraded  nature.  But  I 
don't  care  for  anything  but  keeping  Lanse's  love  —  if 
Jack  Vibart  were  dead  I  should  not  care  !  —  and  yet, 
once,  I  could  do  that" 

A  voice  called  her  from  below,  and  her  husband's 
step  sounded  across  the  wide  square  hall.  "  Madge  !  " 
called  Crofton,  cheerily.  "  Where  are  you  ?  Come 
down  to  luncheon.  I  am  as  hungry  as  a  hunter  !  " 

The  trivial  sweet  familiarity  of  everyday  things  faced 
her  vividly  in  the  happy  confidence  of  his  tones.  It 
looked  doubly  precious  in  the  peril  of  the  threatened 
future.  She  turned  from  her  troubled  musings  deter- 
minedly, and  training  her  lips  to  their  usual  smile,  ran 
down  the  stairs  to  meet  him. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

*  The  tale  was  true.     Marriage  is  of  the  world, 
Dreams  are  the  Garden,  and  the  Serpent,  Fate, 
And  Lave  is  still  the  Angel  at  the  Gate." 

MRS.  DRYSDALE  stopped  at  Friedenhof  on  her  way 
home,  and  went  in  to  see  Starling,  in  reference  to  a 
doll  show  which  was  to  take  place  at  Rosebank  for  the 
benefit  of  certain  Missions,  and  for  which  the  female 
population  of  the  neighbourhood  were  very  busy  making 
clothes. 

"  I  want  to  know  if  you  have  any  scraps  of  flannel 
you  can  let  me  have,"  she  said,  sitting  down  in  the 
middle  of  the  dressmaking  operations.  "  I  suppose 
Lady  Jane  Grey  did  wear  flannel  petticoats.  At  any 
rate  I  am  dressing  her  with  one." 

"  It  is  so  difficult  to  avoid  anacronisms,  is  n't  it  ?  " 
said  Starling,  with  a  sigh,  pushing  a  singularly  naked 
black  doll  on  one  side  to  hunt  for  flannel.  "  There  is 
one  comfort  in  dressing  Kaffirs,  they  need  have  nothing 
underneath.  A  blanket  and  beads  is  full  dress  for 
them  !  " 

"  My  dear  Starling,  I  do  hope  you  confine  yourself 
strictly  to  the  dolls,  when  you  say  so !  What  is  that 
waxen  beauty  going  to  be?" 

"  A  court  lady.  It 's  so  much  easier  to  manage 
modern  dress.  I  always  get  mixed  when  I  try  a  cer- 
tain period.  Is  n't  that  brocade  pretty  ?  There  is 
just  enough  for  the  train." 

"  It  is  the  same  you  wore  at  the  Sapper's  dance, 
is  n't  it  ?  You  looked  particularly  nice  that  night, 
Starling. " 

"  So  my  partners  hinted,"  said  Starling,  calmly.  "  I 
think  I  felt  so." 


294  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  What  was  the  matter  with  you  when  you  met  me 
in  the  lounge  ?  That  glass-house  makes  an  admirable 
sitting-out  spot,  by  the  way.  You  were  with  True,  or 
rather  he  was  behind  you,  when  you  suddenly  dashed 
out  from  a  grove  of  ferns  and  pranced  back  to  the  ball- 
room. You  looked  so  upset  that  really  if  it  had  been 
any  one  but  True,  I  should  have  imagined  things." 

A  passing  disturbance  was  discernible  in  Starling's 
face  at  the  present  moment.  She  rummaged  among 
several  indescribable  small  garments  with  her  head 
turned  away,  and  when  she  spoke,  she  hesitated  in 
a  most  unusual  fashion.  As  a  rule,  Starling  did  not 
hesitate,  soft  and  cooing  though  her  voice  was;  nor 
did  she  make  confidences. 

"  There  was  nothing  the  matter  —  only  we  had  been 
sitting  out  quite  long  enough,  and  —  You  know  those 
two  low  chairs  up  in  the  corner  ?  Well,  we  were 
there." 

"  It  is  dark,"  said  Mrs.  Drysdale,  sympathetically. 

"  Yes,  but  I  don't  mind  that,  as  a  rule."  The  little 
brown  head  came  up  with  an  impatient  jerk  that  sug- 
gested a  "  touch-me-if-you-dare  "  attitude  towards  man- 
kind in  general,  be  the  light  never  so  dim.  "  The 
fact  is,"  — she  spoke  with  a  sudden  rush  of  words,  —  "  I 
could  n't  find  his  right  arm,  and  after  a  while  I  began 
to  get  nervous." 

"  It  is  an  awkward  thing  to  lose,"  said  Mrs.  Drysdale, 
dryly.  "  But  one's  partner's  right  arm  is  the  first  thing 
to  become  '  not  seen,  but  dimly  felt '  in  a  conservatory. 
I  have  known  it  to  be  the  left,"  she  added  musingly. 
"Go  on,  Starling." 

"So  at  last  I  said,  'True,  I  should  like  to  know 
where  your  other  arm  is — '  was  n't  it  mad  of  me?  But 
you  know  we  have  had  several  tiffs  lately,  and  I  have 
got  into  a  habit  of  saying  what  I  mean  straight  out  to 
him.  And  he  said,  '  It 's  along  the  back  of  your 
chair  — '  " 


The  Story  of  Eden  295 

"  He  ought  to  have  been  ashamed  of  himself,"  Mrs. 
Drysdale  interpolated.  "  Only  now  I  come  to  think  of 
it,  True  never  has  been  that.  Perhaps  —  "  this  was  a 
flash  of  intuition,  "  he  has  never  had  cause  to  be." 

"  Well,  I  said,  '  Please  don't  demoralise  the  chairs 
that  I  sit  on  like  that  —  it 's  so  bad  for  them.'  Yes,  I 
know  it  was  nonsense,  but  I  was  getting  nervous." 

"  Oh,  True  does  n't  count." 

"  No,  he  does  n't  count,  but  the  light  was  very  low, 
and  he  was  there  —  somewhere  —  and  I  did  n't  quite 
know  where.  I  said,  '  Will  you  please  put  your  arm 
somewhere  else,'  and  he  put  it  somewhere  else." 

"  Which  was  worse,  of  course." 

"  I  did  n't  let  it  stop  there,"  said  Starling,  in  an 
injured  tone.  "  If  it  had  been  any  other  man  I  could 
have  got  into  a  rage  and  flounced  round,  but  you  know 
how  it  is  with  True,  he  begins  so  gently  and  courte- 
ously that  you  've  nothing  to  take  hold  of,  and  before 
you  know  where  you  are,  you  're  there,  you  know. 
I'  ve  snubbed  him  ever  so  many  times  lately,  until  I 
felt  at  last  that  I  could  n't  be  crushing  any  more  —  it 
is  like  breaking  a  butterfly." 

"  I  don't  see  that  it  matters,"  said  Mrs.  Drysdale, 
consolingly.  "  As  it  was  only  True."  She  looked  at 
Starling  casually  as  she  spoke,  and  made  a  mental 
note.  "  She  always  laughed  before  when  men  tried  to 
make  fools  of  themselves,  —  she  doesn't  laugh  now. 
She  is  on  the  verge  of  being  really  uneasy  and  uncer- 
tain of  herself.  With  True  of  all  men  !  He  must  have 
given  some  hint  of  the  masculine  side  of  him,  which  is 
a  slip  for  True,  or  is  it  the  reality  of  the  man,  which  we 
all  ignore,  asserting  itself  after  all  ?  —  I  am  interested  — 
I  shall  look  on." 

But  when  she  met  him  later  in  the  day,  at  Mrs. 
Johnnie's  tennis,  her  new  keen-sightedness  was  lulled 
back  into  her  former  acceptance  of  him  as  he  repre- 
sented himself.  True  was  playing  the  game  with  cat- 


296  The  Story  of  Eden 

like  deftness,  and  his  voice  came  across  the  courts  with 
its  usual  precision,  chanting  the  score,  "40.  15.  —  40. 
30.  —  vantage  —  vantage  all !  "  —  he  made  a  run  and 
lifted  a  ball  over  the  net  with  deadly  swiftness.  The  sun 
shone  on  his  brown  head  and  sunburnt  face,  and  on  the 
strong  set  of  his  shoulders  under  the  loose  pink  shirt. 
Mrs.  Drysdale  saw  his  eyes  gleam  and  flash  as  they 
followed  the  ball;  he  was  just  the  ordinary  young 
soldier  playing  tennis  adroitly,  and  armoured  with  all 
the  surface  life  which  disguised  the  real  True,  if  such  a 
thing  existed.  She  felt  baffled,  and  turned  to  Madge 
Crofton  rather  helplessly. 

"  How  well  True  is  playing !  "  she  said. 

"True  does  everything  well,"  said  Madge,  inclu- 
sively. "  He  is  the  best  billiard  player  in  his  regiment, 
and  he  beats  them  all  at  tennis  or  cycling.  Look  at 
his  pink  shirt !  True  is  vain.  He  knows  perfectly  well 
that  that  colour  is  exactly  the  shade  to  suit  him.  He 
would  n't  be  nearly  so  sweet  in  blue." 

Mrs.  Drysdale's  eyes  still  followed  the  flying  balls 
and  the  active  young  figures.  "  Starling  was  telling  me 
that  at  the  Sapper's  dance  he  tried  to  put  his  arm 
round  her  when  they  were  sitting  out ! "  she  said 
laughing. 

"  Only  tried  ?  "  Madge  asked,  raising  her  eyebrows 
with  a  flash  of  mischief  in  her  eyes.  "  How  good  of 
Starling  !  It  would  n't  have  stopped  at  that  with  me, 
in  her  place,  I  feel  sure.  Would  it  with  you, 
Clarice  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  should  have  told  him  not  to  be  a  fool !  So 
would  you  probably.  Only  you  would  have  let  him  go 
on  being  one  all  the  while.  Starling  did  n't  apparently. 
I  can't  think  what  has  come  to  her  —  unless  she  met 
some  one  at  Home.  It  can't  be  True." 

"  No,  it  does  seem  a  little  impossible.  Still  I  sup- 
pose we  all  have  our  other  side."  She  turned  her  face 
with  a  shadow  on  it  and  looked  at  the  crowd  of  people 


The  Story  of  Eden  297 

laughing  and  chattering  among  the  trees.  "  The  other 
side  is  difficult  to  realise  in  Wynberg  and  the  sun- 
shine," she  said.  "  Look  at  Edith  Hofman  and  Mr. 
Forrester,  for  instance.  We  none  of  us  know  what  the 
trouble  is  there  —  and  yet  there  is  a  fault  somewhere." 

True  came  across  the  courts  racket  in  hand,  and 
smiling  broadly.  He  looked  the  impersonation  of 
sunshine.  "Will  you  come  and  have  tea?"  he  said. 
"  I  won.  I  always  want  tea  when  I  've  won." 

"  I  'm  dying  for  something  to  drink,"  Madge  said, 
dropping  her  gravity  of  a  minute  since,  and  dimpling 
into  laughter.  "  Come  along,  True  —  you  are  a  dear 
little  thing,  and  you  always  offer  me  just  what  I  want." 

And  they  went  away  together  to  play  with  the  fruit  and 
cake  like  children  —  laughing  lightly  above  the  unwritten 
tragedies  of  their  lives,  if  tragedies  there  were,  as  the 
African  sunlight  danced  among  the  gloomy  fir-trees. 
Margery  kept  True  near  her  as  long  as  possible.  She 
was  anxious  not  to  think,  —  to  talk  the  merest  non- 
sense, and  to  forget  the  morning's  news  and  strain. 
She  dreaded  hearing  Vibart's  arrival  discussed  among 
the  people  round  her,  and  kept  on  chattering  to  True 
or  Beaumont  Livingston  all  the  afternoon. 

"  I  can't  be  grave  —  I  dare  n't.  I  won't  think,"  she 
said  to  herself.  "  For  safety's  sake  I  must  be  gayer 
than  usual  to-day.  Lanse  will  come  and  fetch  me 
presently ;  I  want  him  to  find  me  laughing  and  talking. 
If  I  have  anything  to  say  to  V.  C.  or  Major  Yeats  this 
afternoon,  they  will  make  me  grave  —  they  always  touch 
the  deeper  part  of  me.  I  shall  stick  to  True  and  Beau 
Livingston." 

She  found  Beau  in  conversation  with  his  host, 
and  joined  them  without  ceremony.  Johnnie  Dodd 
was  speaking  in  puffs  a  note  higher  than  usual,  which 
betrayed  agitation.  Also,  regardless  of  Madge's  ap- 
proaching figure,  he  still  sprinkled  his  remarks  with 
expletives,  —  a  thing  he  was  learning  to  restrain  before 


298  The  Story  of  Eden 

ladies.  His  subject,  as  Madge  soon  found,  was  Great 
Britain  in  general,  and  her  modes  of  government  in 
particular.  There  is  generally  a  singular  silence  on 
subjects  with  a  political  aspect  in  Anglo-African 
society,  because  if  your  next  neighbour  is  not  a  Bond- 
man, he  is  probably  a  South  African  born,  with  Views 
about  the  Home  Authorities  and  their  attitude  toward 
his  country.  The  innate  wickedness  in  Beau  Living- 
ston was  never  more  discernible  than  when  he  drew  on 
Johnnie  Dodd  to  speak  his  mind  in  the  risk  of  a  mixed 
social  gathering. 

"  You  may  be  a  great  Nation,"  he  was  panting  at 
Beau,  who  was  obviously  enjoying  himself  very  much ; 
"but  if  you  go  on  bungling  as  you  have  been  doing 
since  '81,  you'll  lose  Africa.  We  're  not  going  to  be 
governed  by  a  set  of  old  women  who  can't  stand  up  for 
themselves  !  We  '11  have  a  United  South  Africa  —  we  '11 
separate  ourselves  from  Britain  —  we  '11  —  " 

"  But,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Beau,  hugely  delighted, 
"  what  could  we  do  but  apologise  after  the  Raid  ?  It 
was  out  of  all  order.  Still  if  it  had  succeeded  —  "  He 
shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  The  Johannesburg  men 
should  have  seen  to  that" 

"  The  John'isburg  men ! "  spluttered  Johnnie. 
"  What  could  they  do  ?  They  waited  and  waited  till 
the  time  should  be  ripe,  and  were  ready  to  form  up  at 
a  minute's  notice.  I  spoke  to  a  man,  last  time  I  was 
up  there,  who  told  me  he  moved  his  musket  four  times 
one  day  —  saw  the  notice  at  the  Club  and  took  it  to  the 
next  hiding-place,  as  soon  as  the  police  tracked  them. 
They  were  willing  enough  to  fight  when  the  order  came. 
What  more  could  they  do?  They  sent  their  wives  down 
at  two  hours'  notice,  and  held  themselves  ready.  It  was 
their  business  to  wait.  They  were  rushed,  as  half  the 
Colony  knows.  If  Jameson  had  n't  been  —  " 

"  Well,  it  was  a  deuced  good  thing  for  the  Boers," 
Beau  interrupted  aggravatingly.  "  They  are  burrowing 


The  Story  of  Eden  299 

like  moles  since,  and  throwing  up  earthworks  in  all 
directions.  The  Raid  was  just  the  excuse  they 
wanted." 

"  Damn  them  !  "  said  Johnnie  Dodd,  piously.  "  Eng- 
land will  have  to  do  something  soon.  The  Transvaal 
Government  is  unendurable.  Those  old  fools  at 
Home  want  stirring  up,  and  unless  I  'm  very  far  wrong, 
they  're  going  to  get  it." 

"  Friend  Rhodes  has  been  trying  to  stir  them  up  to 
his  railway,"  said  Beau,  with  the  graceful  lightness  in 
touching  solemn  things  which  might  have  belonged  to 
the  time  of  the  Empire.  Madge  felt  as  if  the  delicate 
hand  which  held  his  cigarette  would  have  suited  a  gold- 
headed  cane  or  lace  ruffles  equally  well. 

"  He  has  n't  succeeded  very  well,"  she  remarked, 
joining  the  conversation.  "  What  slow-coaches  they 
are  at  Westminster  !  England  is  so  dreadfully  respect- 
able that  she  almost  looks  upon  progress  of  any  kind 
as  a  sin  against  propriety." 

"  Respectable  !  "  snorted  Johnnie  Dodd.  "  How 
about  their  Society?  They  ask  men  out  to  dinner  whom 
I  would  n't  have  inside  my  doors,  because  they  've 
made  money  on  the  Rand,  and  make  a  lot  of  them, 
and  accept  their  wives  —  when  the  relations  between 
them  have  been  notorious  out  here  !  " 

"  But  they  can't  know  anything  about  these  men  as 
you  do,  Mr.  Johnnie,"  put  in  Madge,  soothingly.  "  My 
husband  says  that  when  they  accept  men  in  London 
who  have  been  blackballed  at  the  Kimberley  or  Johan- 
nesburg Clubs,  it  is  simply  because  they  are  ignorant 
about  their  somewhat  shady  pasts." 

"  Then  they  ought  to  know  !  "  retorted  Mr.  Johnnie, 
manfully.  "  They  can  find  out.  Some  one  must  intro- 
duce these  —  these  outsiders  into  English  society ;  — 
where  is  the  voucher  for  their  right  to  be  there?  D' 
you  think  I  'd  let  Mrs.  Johnnie  know  the  rinsings  of  the 
Kimberley  gangs  or  the  John'isburg  crowd,  without 


300  The  Story  of  Eden 

knowing  who  they  were,  and  proving  them  decent  chaps, 
at  all  events?  I  don't  set  up  to  be  over  nice,  Mrs. 
Crofton ;  I  've  made  my  money  amongst  men  who 
were  n't  fit  to  come  into  your  drawing-room,  very  likely ; 
but  that 's  all  in  the  way  of  trade,  and  if  I  made  it 
amongst  them,  I  did  n't  do  it  like  them.  But  if  I  know 
a  gentleman  when  I  see  one,  though  used  to  associate 
with  men  who  were  n't  and  never  could  be,  I  should 
think  your  English  aristocracy  ought  to  be  able  to  do 
so  a  good  deal  better.  Instead  of  which,  they  seem  to 
lick  the  boots  of  any  one  who 's  got  a  fortune  together, 
goodness  knows  how  !  " 

"  But,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Beau,  sweetly,  "  the  Eng- 
lish aristocracy,  as  you  call  them,  don't  care  twopence 
about  good  breeding  or  a  decent  past !  They  have  n't 
got  it  themselves  nowadays,  and  they  are  not  so  unjust 
as  to  demand  it  elsewhere.  What  they  want  is  to  make, 
money,  and  when  they  meet  a  man  who  has  made  it 
they  naturally  conclude  that  he  can  show  them  the 
trick  also.  Hence  their  amiability.  A  little  shoving  on 
your  part,  Johnnie,  a  few  introductions,  —  you  've  met 
a  dozen  people  who  could  give  you  those,  —  a  few  din- 
ners which  would  get  rid  of  some  of  your  superfluous 
cash,  and  they  would  have  extended  the  right  hand  of 
fellowship  to  you  also." 

"  Thanks,  I  don't  want  their  fellowship  on  those 
terms,  any  more  than  I  'd  have  my  daughter  presented 
with  some  of  the  women  who  have  been  to  the  Draw- 
ing-rooms. I  told  Starling  I  was  n't  going  to  have  her 
on  a  par  with  that  set.  Of  course  the  English  debu- 
tantes are  all  right  —  every  one  knows  about  them  ;  but 
I  Ve  heard  —  I  don't  know  if  it  -s  true  — that  there  have 
been  some  John'isburg  women  presented  who  were  n't 
all  right,  and  Starling  would  rank  as  one  of  them,  and 
not  with  the  English  girls.  I  know  the  Queen 's  par- 
ticular, but  those  who  are  responsible  to  her  don't  seem 
to  be  so." 


The  Story  of  Eden  301 

"  You  are  delightfully  young,  Johnnie  !  "  Beau  said, 
his  blue  eyes  nearly  lost  in  wrinkles  of  laughter. 
"  Madge,  let  us  go  and  have  some  more  to  eat.  We 
shall  never  educate  him  up  to  the  age ;  but  we  can  allow 
him  to  feed  us  who  are  educated." 

"  I  wonder  if  I  am  educated  up  to  the  age?  "  said 
Madge,  as  they  strolled  off  together.  "  I  always  thought 
I  was  a  little  behind  it." 

"You  were,"  said  Beau,  amiably.  "  But  I  think  you 
are  a  little  before  it  now.  It  is  the  last  fashion,  I  found, 
both  in  Paris  and  London,  for  married  women  to  be 
secretly  in  love  with  their  own  husbands,  —  an  open 
secret,  of  course,  like  all  these  things.  You  are  in  love 
with  your  own  husband,  are  you  not?  " 

"  Do  you  know  I  begin  to  be  a  little  afraid  that  I 
am  !  "  said  Madge.  "  However,  we  can  ask  him  when 
he  arrives.  What  a  lot  of  cakes  !  Mrs.  Johnnie  always 
seems  to  get  new  ones  for  her  afternoons.  I  can't  think 
how  she  manages  it." 

"  I  wish  she  would  n't  have  so  many.  It  scares  me 
off  Friedenhof  for  a  week  after  I  see  a  spread  like  this. 
I  have  the  greatest  objection  to  helping  my  friends  to 
eat  up  the  remains  of  a  feast  at  which  I  was  an  original 
guest.  They  will  live  on  those  cream  pastries  for  days, 
you  know,  as  pudding,  and  at  five  o'clock  tea  one  will 
recognise  all  the  biscuits  —  a  little  stale." 

"One  might  do  worse,  even  after  the  freshness  is 
off,"  said  Madge,  nibbling  daintily  at  a  slice  of  almond 
paste  and  nougat.  Looking  past  Beau,  her  eyes  fell  on 
Lansing,  and  brightened.  She  did  not  know  that  he 
had  arrived,  but  he  had  promised  to  fetch  her.  He 
was  standing  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  with  his  side 
face  to  her;  he  was  always  perfectly  upright,  but 
stooped  a  little  from  the  neck,  so  that  his  chin  nunted 
forward.  It  was  a  characteristic  attitude  of  his,  and 
accentuated  the  forcible  expression  of  his  strong,  re- 
strained face.  He  always  gave  strangers  the  impres- 


302  The  Story  of  Eden 

sion  of  a  man  who  was  going  forward.  Madge's  eyes 
dwelt  on  him  with  a  little  loving  appreciation  of  his  —  to 
her  —  superiority  to  the  other  men  present.  He  was 
talking  to  Teddy  Barton,  and  though  the  Irishman  was 
somewhat  taller,  his  easy  figure  and  shallow,  good-look- 
ing face  became  purposeless  beside  Crofton's.  While 
she  was  still  looking  at  him,  as  if  by  instinctive  sym- 
pathy, he  turned,  and  their  eyes  met  with  a  little  flash 
of  recognition  and  understanding,  —  a  half  humorous 
greeting  as  of  two  who  were  very  close  together  in  mind 
as  well  as  heart.  A  warm  glow  of  pleasure  and  satis- 
faction thrilled  Madge,  to  be  followed  as  quickly  by  a 
flash  of  pain.  "  How  sweet  it  is  to  feel  that  we  belong 
to  each  other  !  We  are  so  near  together,  that  our  very 
souls  seem  to  take  and  give  greeting  without  hindrance. 
And  presently  we  shall  go  home,  and  discuss  all  this, 
and  talk  as  friends  as  well  as  lovers.  But  if  something 
should  go  wrong  !  If  he  should  find  out  —  anything  — 
and  I  should  lose  it  all !  I  dare  not  think  what  he 
would  do  —  what  would  happen.  Oh,  I  was  not  nearly  so 
frightened  even  when  I  married  him,  for  I  did  not  care 
for  him  one  half  so  much  as  I  do  now,  or  I  could  never 
have  run  the  risk  of  having  had  his  trust  and  losing  it !  " 
With  a  remembrance  that  she  meant  Lansing  to  see  her 
gay  and  enjoying  herself,  she  pulled  her  forces  together, 
and  went  on  talking  to  Beau  with  feverish  gaiety. 

Crofton  might  have  been  surprised  had  he  seen  her 
acting  the  part  of  wallflower,  but  as  a  fact  he  would 
almost  have  preferred  it  to  her  light  incessant  chatter 
to  the  men  who  hovered  round  her.  He  was  inclined 
to  be  jealous  at  times.  "  An  excellent  tendency,  but  a 
bad  fault,  once  it  goes  too  far,"  Mrs.  Drysdale  said  to 
Madge.  Miles  Mowbray  had,  by  Margery's  own  invita- 
tion, made  an  arrangement  to  ride  with  her  the  next 
morning,  but  a  little  resentful  remark  of  her  husband's 
on  the  homeward  way  decided  her  not  to  mention  it 
then,  rapidly  calculating  that  Lanse's  mood  might  have 


The  Story  of  Eden  303 

changed  by  the  morning.  She  had  seen  very  little  of 
Miles  since  his  removal  to  Simon's  Town,  but  he  had 
never  been  a  great  favourite  with  Crofton,  who,  how- 
ever, started  for  Cape  Town  before  the  boy  arrived. 
He  had  business  which  would  keep  him  there  until 
the  afternoon,  and  Madge  casually  remarked  at  the  last 
minute  that  she  might  go  for  a  ride,  perhaps,  —  if  any 
one  turned  up,  —  by  which  she  compounded  also  with 
her  own  conscience. 

"All  right,  only  don't  tire  yourself.  It  is  going 
to  be  hot,"  Lanse  returned  in  his  customary  tones. 
Madge  was  relieved,  but  she  did  not  order  her  pony 
until  Mowbray  absolutely  appeared,  trusting  that  Fate 
might  throw  something  in  the  way.  She  had  not 
dreamed  of  Lanse's  objecting ;  she  had  always  ridden 
with  this  man  or  that  while  she  had  lived  under  her 
brother's  roof,  and  did  not  think  of  even  mentioning 
her  intention,  though  she  had  no  motive  of  conceal- 
ment before  his  sudden  small  display  of  jealousy.  But 
she  would  have  sacrificed  any  amount  of  rides  rather 
than  put  Lanse  out,  and  if  she  had  had  time  would  have 
written  and  excused  herself  to  Mowbray.  The  Fates 
were  unpropitious,  for  he  arrived  before  eleven,  and 
having  no  adequate  excuse,  Madge  ordered  the  ponies 
and  they  set  out. 

Mowbray  was  arrayed  in  spotless  garments;  from 
his  white  breeches  to  his  curly  hair  there  was  not  a 
speck  of  dust  or  dirt  upon  him,  but  his  whole  person 
was  pervaded  with  a  sense  of  uneasiness  and  gloom. 
The  boy  had  a  quaint  white  face,  and  blue  eyes  that 
twinkled  with  good-humour  and  a  spice  of  mischief  as 
a  rule.  But  the  light  in  them  had  been  snuffed  out, 
and  when  they  rested  upon  Margery  they  were  full 
of  concern.  At  first  she  hardly  noticed  his  unusual 
gravity,  but  when  they  had  ridden  out  some  miles,  and 
in  spite  of  a  good  gallop  he  was  still  depressed,  she 
turned  in  her  saddle  and  looked  at  him  more  closely. 


304  The  Story  of  Eden 

They  were  riding  along  the  hot  white  road  to  Tokai,  — . 
a  newly  made  road  that  had  not  yet  turned  red  like  its 
fellows,  —  out  in  the  soft  glare  of  the  sunshine,  with 
the  green  mountain  plantation  before  them.  Mowbray 
was  looking  straight  ahead  at  Tokai,  and  not  at  her,  at 
the  moment. 

"Miles,  what  is  the  matter?"  she  said  suddenly. 
She  had  long  since  dropped  into  using  his  Christian 
name,  even  before  her  marriage  "legitimised  the  act," 
as  Beau  would  have  said. 

"There  is  nothing  the  matter  ! "  he  returned  rousing 
himself. 

"  Yes,  there  is ;  you  have  hardly  spoken  a  word,  and 
I  know  there  is  something  on  your  mind.  Do  tell 
me  ! "  She  wondered  if  it  were  a  love-trouble,  and 
spoke  kindly  and  coaxingly.  The  boy  was  so  young 
it  could  be  only  calf-love,  she  decided  in  her  newly 
attained  wisdom  of  a  married  woman,  but  he  should 
not  be  ridiculed. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  would  be  angry  —  "  he  began,  and 
hesitated  and  got  honestly  red. 

"  I  ?     No,  of  course  not !     Why  should  I  ?  " 

"  It  concerns  you." 

"Me!" 

«Yes  —  " 

"  Then  I  think  you  had  better  tell  me  —  unless  you 
are  sure  it  could  only  do  harm  and  not  good." 

"  I  am  not  sure.     It  is  only  —  men  are  such  brutes  ! 

—  but  I  wanted  to  warn  you.     I  think  you  ought  to 
know  that  they  talk,  that  you  may  be  able  to  defend 
yourself,  and  give  them  no  chance."     He  was  so  gen- 
uinely troubled,  and  so  nicely  in  earnest,  that  it  was 
impossible  to  be  offended.     Nevertheless  he  gave  her 
the  chance.     "  Of  course  you  can  say  it  is  no  business 
of  mine,  and  shut  me  up.     But  I  knew  you  and  Crof- 
ton  would  be  annoyed  if  it   came   to   your   ears  in 

—  in  a  worse  way  perhaps.     And   I   should  be  $o 


The  Story  of  Eden  305 

awfully  sorry,"  he  added  loyally.     "  Don't  be  offended, 
please  !  " 

The  young  round  face  at  his  side  seemed  suddenly 
to  lengthen  and  harden.  The  youth  went  out  of  it,  and 
a  frightened,  reckless  look  came  instead,  like  a  woman 
at  bay.  "  What  is  it  that  you  mean  ? "  Madge  said 
quietly,  controlling  herself.  "  Tell  me,  please.  I  am 
not  offended.  But  I  must  know  what  you  mean." 

"  I  mean  —  that  people  talk  —  our  fellows  especially. 
I  should  like  to  choke  the  stories  in  their  own  throats  !  " 
he  added  fiercely,  "  Only  that  might  do  more  harm 
than  good." 

"  Yes,  please  do  not  make  a  fuss.  I  should  not  like 
that.  They  talk  about  me,  I  suppose?  " 

«Yes  —  " 

"  And  —  any  one  else  ?  " 

"Yes  —  " 

"In  particular?" 

"  A  man  named  Vibart,  who  was  here  before,  and  is 
coming  out  again  —  our  new  Colonel  probably.  I 
never  met  him,  we  were  always  in  different  battalions, 
and  when  I  joined  I  went  straight  to  India.  You  knew 
him,  I  suppose  ?  " 

She  rallied  her  forces,  gripped  the  reins  between  her 
relaxing  fingers,  and  settled  herself  firmly  in  her  saddle. 
She  had  not  expected  this,  and  she  must  meet  it,  and 
find  out  how  far  the  mischief  had  gone. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  knew  Major  Vibart,"  said  she.  "  He  was 
very  popular  here.  For  that  matter,  I  have  no  doubt 
that  he  has  been  talked  of  with  a  number  of  women. 
You  know  in  a  place  like  this  every  one  gossips." 

"  Yes,"  he  said  doubtfully. 

"  But  you  have  not  heard  it?  " 

"  Only  about  you,  as  far  as  he  is  concerned.     Oh,  I 
have  heard  plenty  of  stories  of  course,  and  I  know  his 
reputation  is  rather  shady.     Great  pity  he  is  coming  t<? 
us,  I  think  —  I  know  I  wish  he  were  n't," 
20 


306  The  Story  of  Eden 

There  was  a  silence,  while  the  horses'  hoofs  beat 
crisply  on  the  good,  hard  road.  A  little  bright-col- 
oured bird  flew  out  of  a  clump  of  sugar-bushes,  and  the 
heads  of  the  same  handsome  flowers  strewed  the  path 
before  them  where  the  Kaffir  children  had  flung  them 
down  after  sucking  the  honey.  Margery  had  ridden 
that  way  with  Vibart  sometimes. 

"Well,  what  do  they  say  of  me  —  more  particu- 
larly?" she  said  almost  sharply,  when  the  pause  be- 
came intolerable. 

"  Oh,  they  —  talk  !  I  can't  tell  you  —  it 's  horrid 
lies  !  I  only  wanted  to  warn  you  so  that  you  might 
balk  them  of  anything  more  to  say.  He  is  probably 
coming  out  again,  you  know.  That 's  what  made  the 
talk,  —  at  least  —  revived  it.  I  'm  awfully  sorry  it 
should  ever  have  happened  —  I  don't  believe  a  word 
of  it,  you  know  that  —  of  course  I  could  n't !  Except 
I  know  you  do  flirt !  " 

A  slight  smile  curved  Madge's  stiff  lips  in  spite  of 
herself.  "Do  I?  I  don't  mean  to  —  it 's  only  fun," 
she  said.  "  I  daresay  I  gave  the  gossips  plenty  to  say, 
because  I  talked  to  Major  Vibart,  as  to  any  man  who 
made  himself  pleasant  to  me.  No  doubt  I  was  n't  very 
discreet,  because  it  never  occurred  to  me  to  be  so. 
That  is  all,  Miles.  But  I  want  you  to  promise  me 
something." 

"Yes?" 

"  Don't  make  a  fuss,  or  tell  these  men  that  it  is  a 
lie,  with  a  false  idea  of  defending  me.  That  it  is  a 
lie  is  quite  sufficient."  (Again  that  tightened  grasp  of 
the  rein,  which  her  horse  felt  and  tossed  his  head  im- 
patiently, and  that  strained  gaze  at  Tokai  drawing  ever 
nearer  to  them.)  "  You  would  only  make  matters 
worse  by  deigning  to  discuss  them.  I  do  not  care 
what  such  people  say  of  me,  but  I  agree  with  you  that 
it  is  just  as  well  to  give  them  nothing  to  use  as  a  foun- 
dation for  any  tale,  however  wildly  they  exaggerate.  I 


The  Story  of  Eden  307 

shall  be  careful  should  I  meet  Major  —  I  mean  Colonel 
Vibart,  that  is  all." 

"  You  are  an  angel  to  take  it  like  this  !  Most  girls 
would  have  raged,  and  snapped  my  head  off.  But  you 
were  always  so  reasonable,  Madge.  And  you  aren't 
angry?" 

"  No,  I  realise  that  you  meant  it  far  too  kindly  to  be 
angry  about  it.  But  I  don't  think  we  need  discuss  it 
again.  Shall  we  have  a  gallop  ?  " 

The  cloud  was  gone  from  his  face,  she  was  glad  to 
see,  as  they  rode  forward  more  quickly.  Only  a  slight 
melancholy  remained,  possibly  due  to  his  recent  dis- 
turbance. It  was  not  until  they  were  walking  slowly 
homeward  again  —  for  it  was  then  too  hot  to  go  quickly 
—  that  another  side  of  the  question  occurred  to  her 
mind,  if  not  as  terrifying,  almost  as  discomforting  as  the 
first. 

"  Miles,  was  this  —  gossip,  the  reason  that  you  have 
hardly  been  to  see  me  since  my  engagement?"  she 
said. 

He  went  a  shade  whiter.  "Not  entirely,"  he  said 
briefly. 

"  You  used  to  run  in  two  or  three  times  a  week.  I 
put  it  down  to  your  being  at  Simon's  Town  at  first, 
when  you  did  n't  come  —  " 

"  As  if  that  would  have  stopped  me  !  " 

"Then  it  wasn't  that?" 

"  No  !  " 

She  hesitated  a  minute,  then  stretched  out  her  hand 
to  him  gently.  "  What  was  it,  Miles?  "  she  said. 

The  boy  caught  his  breath.  "  You  know  !  "  he  said 
as  his  hand  fastened  eagerly  on  hers.  "  I  always  did, 
Madge,  —  from  the  very  first !  " 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  sorry  !  —  only  you  are  so  young  —  it 
won't  last.  I  know  that 's  cold  comfort,  only  —  I  am 
sure  you  will  get  over  it.  I  hope  so.  I  'm  not  good, 
enough  to  be  any  one's  first  love ! " 


308  The  Story  of  Eden 

"You're  good  enough  for  me,"  he  said  huskily. 
"Did  you  never  guess?" 

"Not  until  just  now — it  struck  me.  It  was  yout 
being  so  worried  over  that  —  gossip." 

"  I  should  like  to  have  killed  some  of  them  ! "  he 
said  hotly.  "  Some  men  don't  deserve  to  live.  They 
ought  to  be  shot  at  sight.  They  say  Vibart  's  like  that. 
Was  he  a  great  friend  of  yours?  " 

"  You  need  n't  be  jealous  of  him,"  said  Madge,  de- 
tecting the  reason  of  his  inquiry.  She  smiled  rather 
sadly,  a  tired,  strained  smile  unlike  her  own.  "  I  assure 
you  I  shall  not  be  likely  to  see  much  of  Colonel  Vibart, 
even  if  he  comes  out  again,  nor  do  I  desire  to.  I 
knew  him  much  as  I  knew  True,  or  —  or  Mr.  For- 
rester, or  any  one."  (She  marvelled  at  herself.) 
"  What  a  foolish  boy  you  are  ! " 

"  I  can't  help  it.  I  know  I  'm  a  fool  where  you  are 
concerned.  Madge  dear,  don't  flirt  with  any  of  the 
fellows  round  here  —  stick  to  your  husband.  He  's  a 
good  sort.  There  are  such  a  lot  of  tongues  ready  to 
slander  you,  and  I  can't  bear  it.  It 's  only  because  you 
are  prettier  and  more  popular  than  other  women,  and 
these  snakes  are  always  writhing  about  trying  to  sting 
—  but  they  are  poisonous  sometimes.  You  are  so  good 
really,  and  so  pure-minded  that  you  don't  think,  —  how 
should  you?  —  and  you  don't  know  what  is  said.  It  is 
because  I  believe  in  you  myself,  heart  and  soul  —  as  I 
do  in  my  religion,  and  every  fellow  has  got  some  sort 
of  a  creed,  deep  down,  that  he  does  n't  talk  about  —  it 
is  just  that  makes  me  warn  you." 

Perhaps  one  of  the  keenest  whips  with  which  a 
woman  can  be  scourged  is  the  undeserved  confidence 
and  faith  of  her  friends.  When  she  knows  that  she  is 
not  the  divinity  that  some  human  soul  makes  of  her, 
then  perhaps  she  first  begins  to  appreciate  the  position 
she  has  in  reality  lost.  Madge  coloured  faintly ;  all 
she  s,aid  was,  "  Don't  make  idols  of  human  clay,  Miles, 


The  Story  of  Eden  309 

They  might  fail  you,"  and  he  answered,  "  Oh,  you  won't 
fail  me  !  You  must  n't  think,  because  I  asked  you  not 
to  flirt,  that  I  don't  know  how —  " 

"I  understand,"  she  interrupted  briefly.  "Only  — 
I  fancied  you  were  making  me  a  goddess.  I  am  only 
one  of  the  ordinary  run  of  women." 

The  truth  of  her  own  words  came  home  to  her  as 
she  spoke  them.  She  had  indeed  been  only  one  of  the 
ordinary  run  of  women,  with  a  little  more  opportunity 
than  most,  and  to  a  certain  extent  victimised  by  cir- 
cumstances. That  she  might  have  risen  superior  to 
such  circumstances,  and  proved  herself  a  worthier  ideal 
for  Miles  Mowbray  and  his  like,  she  acknowledged. 
She  never  parried  the  truth,  or  excused  herself —  she 
was  indeed  rather  unmerciful  in  her  self-condemnation, 
now  that  the  former  vivid  attraction  had  faded  from 
her  mind  so  as  to  seem  no  more  a  possible  temptation. 
The  remainder  of  the  ride  was  a  silent  one ;  Mowbray 
shook  hands  with  her  at  her  own  gate,  and  would  not 
stay  to  luncheon.  The  grip  of  his  hand,  and  the  ex- 
pression in  his  young  blue  eyes  haunted  her  miserably 
for  hours.  "  It  is  all  right  —  I  am  not  a  bit  annoyed," 
she  said  frankly.  "  If  I  had  been  I  could  easily  have 
prevented  your  speaking.  Don't  come  here  for  the 
present,  that 's  all.  I  love  Lansing,  you  know.  There 
could  never  have  been  any  question  of  my  marrying 
any  one  but  him.  Good-bye,  Miles." 

She  went  to  her  solitary  luncheon,  and  tried  to 
think.  Even  the  revelation  of  Mowbray's  feeling  for 
her  took  a  secondary  place  in  her  mind  to  his  account 
of  the  way  her  name  was  coupled  with  Vibart's.  She 
tried  to  think.  There  was  real  danger  here,  —  danger 
that  must  be  averted.  She  shrank  and  caught  her 
breath,  realising  that  the  story  —  some  version  or  hint 
of  it — must  have  been  bandied  about  all  these  months, — 
years,  —  while  she  was  feeling  so  confident  that  no  word 
of  it  had  escaped.  She  wondered  that  a  rumour  had 


310  The  Story  of  Eden 

not  reached  her,  that  her  circle  of  friends  had  never  been 
narrowed  by  it,  or  that  no  difference  had  been  made  in 
her  position  socially.  But  she  saw  also  that  there  was  no 
proof,  nothing  to  go  on.  The  story  was  just  one  of 
many,  arising  from  those  rides  and  visits  of  Vibart's 
which  might  have  leaked  out  and  been  coarsely 
handled  by  the  men  who  professed  to  be  her  friends. 
She  had  heard  it  done  with  reference  to  other  women 
so  often  that  she  might  have  expected  it.  She  had  not 
given  much  ear  to  like  tales  herself,  and  it  was  prob- 
able that  others  had  disregarded  them  also.  Rumour, 
in  this  case  discredited,  had  probably  touched  the 
truth  without  the  gossips  themselves  really  suspecting 
it.  Yet  it  stung  her  all  the  same,  —  not  so  much  on 
her  own  account,  as  that  Lanse's  wife  should  not  have 
been  as  speckless  as  Caesar's.  She  had  at  least  thought 
that  she  brought  him  a  fair  name  from  the  world  at 
large,  whatever  her  own  knowledge  of  herself  might  be. 
And  supposing  but  a  breath  of  such  scandal  should 
reach  Lanse !  .  .  . 

Beaumont  Livingston  dropped  in  to  tea,  and  she 
roused  herself  to  talk  to  him  and  be  as  usual.  He 
acted  somewhat  like  a  strong  stimulant  upon  Madge's 
capacities,  and  she  felt  the  reward  of  her  effort  in  newly- 
strong  nerves  and  active  brain  after  he  left.  When  she 
retailed  the  little  experiences  of  her  day  to  Lanse,  — 
the  literal  fact  of  her  ride  with  Mowbray,  and  Living- 
ston's call,  —  she  was  surprised  to  find  him  still  somewhat 
restive,  though  his  only  remark  was,  "The  inevitable 
military  element  still  about,  I  see  !  I  can't  quite  see 
why  you  want  that  boy  hanging  round  you.  Of  course 
I  don't  want  to  interfere  with  your  amusement,  dear, 
but  I  saw  a  good  deal  of  Mowbray  before  our  engage- 
ment, and  he  never  impressed  me  as  being  particularly 
worthy  of  cultivation." 

"  I  know  —  you  found  him  in  the  way  in  those  days, 
and  resented  his  very  existence.  I  don't  think  he  has 


The  Story  of  Eden  311 

interfered  with  you  much  since,  Lanse.  And  I  sha'n't 
see  anything  of  him  now,  for  he  tells  me  he  is  very 
busy  at  Simon's  Town." 

She  spoke  wearily,  for  her  brain  was  tired  with  con- 
triving and  planning.  He  came  to  her  at  once  re- 
morsefully, and  took  her  in  his  arms.  "  You  rode  too 
far  in  the  heat  this  morning,  Sweetheart,"  he  said 
fondly,  stroking  her  sunshot  hair.  "  You  're  tired. 
Never  mind  my  nonsense  —  I  'm  a  cross-grained  sort 
of  husband  for  you,  am  I  not  ?  I  did  n't  mean  it  — 
you  shall  have  all  the  boys  in  Camp  to  play  with,  if  you 
like  !  It 's  only  that  I  —  well,  I  suppose  I  don't  like 
to  share  you  with  any  one  else  ! " 

"  Oh,  Lanse,  I  would  n't  speak  to  another  man  as 
long  as  I  lived  if  I  thought  you  were  really  vexed  with 
me,  or  there  were  any  sense  in  it ! "  Her  eyes  were  half 
laughing,  half  wet,  as  they  looked  up  between  the  two 
lines  of  lashes.  "  But  indeed  there  is  n't  the  least 
cause  for  you  to  dislike  poor  Miles." 

She  sighed,  even  while  he  kissed  her,  thinking  how 
little  cause  he  had  in  very  truth  in  this  case  —  how 
much  in  another  where  he  knew  it  not ! 


CHAPTER  XVII 

"  The  Summer-time  still  comes  though  knights  are  dead, 

With  tears  of  maidens  rivers  run  to  sea  ; 
Love  ruleth  still  though  chivalry  be  fled  — 
His  kisses  were  the  same  to  you  and  me. 
All  was  the  same  — from  bridge  to  ruined  mill  — 

Across  the  stream  they  loved,  and  met  to  part ; 
Sad  Winters  change  to  flower-time  —  but  still 
They  call  it  Eden  where  you  broke  my  heart" 

THE  Duke's  Tennis  Tournament  came  off  at  the  end  ol 
March,  before  the  summer  was  quite  over.  It  had  been 
very  hot,  and  Margery  had  been  ailing,  partly  from  the 
lassitude  of  the  summer,  and  partly  from  the  mental 
strain  she  had  undergone  since  she  heard  of  the  prob- 
ability of  Vibart's  return.  It  seemed  to  her  that  Fate 
closed  in  on  her  in  a  series  of  implacable  statements : 
first,  the  news  of  his  appointment  was  confirmed ;  then 
she  learned  the  boat  he  came  by ;  and  after  that  that  he 
had  rejoined  his  Regiment,  but  without  seeing  him,  for 
she  did  not  go  out  for  a  week  or  two,  but  spent  most  of 
her  time  reading  or  dreaming  in  the  garden  of  the 
Rosary,  when  she  was  not  driving  with  Lanse.  He  was 
anxious  about  her,  and  nursed  her  as  tenderly  as  a 
woman  could  have  done,  to  her  secret  surprise.  She 
had  always  looked  upon  him  as  such  an  intensely  mas- 
culine character  that  this  new  capability  came  upon  her 
as  a  delightful  revelation.  "  It  almost  tempts  me  to  go 
on  being  seedy,"  she  said.  "  It  is  so  lovely  to  be  petted 
and  looked  after  by  you."  He  laughed  and  hoped, 
nevertheless,  that  she  would  pick  up  strength  with  the 
colder  weather.  "  If  you  don't,  I  shall  get  things  to- 
gether with  a  rush,  and  take  you  Home,"  he  threatened, 


The  Story  of  Eden  313 

and  wondered  at  the  cordiality  of  his  wife's,  "  I  wish  you 
could." 

Margery  meant  to  go  to  the  Tournament.  It  would 
be  a  good  opportunity  for  meeting  Vibart  and  getting 
the  dreaded  moment  over.  She  knew  that  it  must 
come,  and  with  characteristic  common-sense  determined 
to  arrange  it,  if  possible,  among  a  large  concourse  of 
people,  where  there  would  be  no  least  opportunity  for 
reminiscences  or  any  but  a  conventional  greeting.  She 
dreaded  meeting  him  unexpectedly  about  Wynberg,  or 
seeing  him  when  she  was  unprepared,  and  she  could 
trust  her  own  nerve  to  carry  it  through  if  she  had  delib- 
erately planned  it.  She  knew  that  Lansing  would  not 
agree  with  any  cordiality,  if  she  asked  about  accepting 
the  invitation  to  Camp  j  but  with  her  motive  for  doing  so 
to  urge  her  on,  she  did  not  ask,  but  took  it  for  granted. 
Lanse  said  nothing,  either  way,  when  she  announced  to 
him  casually  that  she  was  going  to  see  the  Tennis  Tour- 
nament ;  but  he  did  not  offer  to  accompany  her. 

"  I  suppose  he  will  fetch  me,  as  he  always  does," 
thought  Madge,  as  she  dressed  herself  on  the  day  in 
question.  "  Well,  it  is  better  so.  I  shall  get  it  all  over 
first,  before  he  comes,  and  then  —  he  can  take  me 
home." 

It  was  a  beautiful  day,  a  blue  African  day,  with  in- 
tense lights  and  shadows  and  an  atmosphere  that  smelt 
of  the  sun.  Down  in  Wynberg  valley  it  was  so  hot  that 
the  oak-trees  and  the  firs  seemed  to  be  roasting,  and  the 
red  ground  was  hot  to  touch ;  but  it  was  a  dry  heat,  and 
on  the  higher  ground  of  the  Camp  a  little  wind  went  in 
and  out  among  the  tents  and  the  Mess  and  the  winding 
ways  of  the  garden  —  True's  garden,  which,  with  the 
little  pigs,  he  had  delivered  over  to  Lowndes  of  the 
Rutlandshire,  when  that  Regiment  replaced  the  Duke's 
in  Camp.  But  True's  conscientious  zeal  was  still  visible 
in  the  clean-cut  garden  paths,  the  full  flower  beds,  and 
the  trimmed  shrubs.  It  was  a  productive  spot,  and 


314  The  Story  of  Eden 

green  things  flourished  with  a  little  care.  The  Duke's 
had  got  a  big  tent  up  for  tea,  not  far  from  the  tennis 
courts,  and  the  men's  flannels  and  the  women's  summer 
gowns  moved  to  and  fro  across  the  garden  ways  and 
dotted  the  whole  scene  with  splashes  of  colour  against 
the  green  background.  Margery  found  the  Tournament 
in  full  swing  when  she  arrived ;  Forrester  was  playing 
with  Polly  Harbord  against  George  Tennyson  and  Edith 
Hofman,  which  he  doubtless  regarded  as  the  irony  of 
Fate ;  and  the  men's  Doubles  raged  between  Mowbray 
and  Silence  Wright,  Henderson  and  Scott  Murray,  who 
was  known  as  "  Hard  Lines  "  in  Wynberg,  from  a  criti- 
cism passed  on  him  by  Teddy  Barton  when  he  became 
Adjutant.  "  It  is  hard  lines  on  the  Duke's  having 
Murray  as  their  Adjutant.  Now  the  Rutlandshires  are 
so  fortunate,  Lowndes  looks  like  a  Seraph  !  "  Murray 
was  certainly  not  beautiful  to  look  upon,  and  the  two 
descriptive  titles  stuck. 

There  were  a  confusing  number  of  the  Rutlandshires 
present  besides  the  Duke's.  Margery  went  straight  to  a 
group  of  people  watching  the  game,  amongst  whom  she 
recognised  True,  without  allowing  herself  to  look  to 
left  or  right.  She  found  herself  in  the  midst  of  her 
acquaintances,  —  Major  Yeats,  True,  Mrs.  Drysdale, 
Lowndes  of  the  Rutlandshires,  and  Beau  Livingston. 
They  were  all  laughingly  backing  Mowbray's  energetic 
service,  and  welcomed  Madge  in  their  various  fashions. 

"I  have  been  looking  out  for  you,  Lady,"  True  said 
as  he  beamed  upon  her.  "Will  you  come  and  have 
some  tea?" 

"  Not  yet.  I  want  to  watch  the  game  a  little,"  she 
said,  her  eyes  wandering  with  dread  and  expectation 
amongst  the  little  groups  of  onlookers.  No,  he  was  not 
there  —  yet.  Was  it  possible  that  he  was  not  coming  ? 
She  almost  longed  to  see  him  and  get  it  over,  this  waiting 
was  so  terrible. 

"  Do  look  at  Mr.  Wright,  Madge  ! "  said  Clarice  Drys- 


The  Story  of  Eden  315 

dale.  "  Don't  a  man's  characteristics  betray  themselves 
at  Tennis  ?  Did  you  ever  see  anything  so  deadly  as  his 
strokes?" 

"  He  is  playing  very  well,"  remarked  Yeats.  "  You 
will  have  to  look  out  for  your  laurels,  Truman,  when  he 
is  your  adversary.  Is  your  husband  with  you,  Mrs. 
Crofton?" 

"  No,  I  expect  him  to  turn  up  presently.  The  last  time 
I  took  him  out  with  me,  he  got  me  away  half  through  the 
afternoon.  It  is  safer  to  let  him  appear  at  the  end." 

"Is  he  such  a  tyrant?"  asked  Lowndes.  "It  is  too 
soon  after  the  honeymoon,  Mrs.  Crofton.  You  should 
have  him  better  in  hand." 

"  Oh,  he  does  n't  use  force  !  "  laughed  Madge.  "  It  is 
moral  influence.  He  would  let  me  stay  till  midnight  if 
I  wanted  to,  but  he  stands  and  looks  so  dreadfully  and 
meekly  miserable  that  I  feel  bound  to  take  him  home 
at  once.  Besides,  I  am  always  afraid  that  he  will  yawn  ! 
Lanse  is  not  so  mightily  entertained  with  social  gather- 
ings as  I  am." 

"  And  a  yawning  husband  is  a  dreadful  degradation," 
Mrs.  Drysdale  agreed.  "  I  remember  going  out  with 
Ossy  once,  when  we  were  just  back  from  a  long  journey 
Up  Country.  Unfortunately  the  affair  took  place  the 
same  day  we  reached  home,  and  we  had  been  travelling 
for  ten  hours.  I  tried  to  reach  him  under  the  dinner- 
table,  but  it  was  no  use.  He  still  presented  the  most 
open  countenance  I  ever  saw  to  his  next  door  neigh- 
bour. I  kicked  and  kicked,  until  the  pain  and  grief  on 
my  host's  face  suggested  to  me  that  I  was  drawing  the 
attention  of  the  wrong  man." 

"  It  ought  to  be  a  lesson  to  you,"  said  Livingston, 
"  not  to  go  about  attempting  to  improve  irreclaimable 
human  nature  —  knowing  Ossy  as  well  as  you  do,  too. 
Mrs.  Crofton  is  much  wiser.  She  realises  that  husbands 
cannot  be  reformed,  or  answered  for ;  but  they  can  be 
left  behind.  Vibart,  my  dear  fellow,  how  's  the  score?  " 


The  Story  of  Eden 

"  Forty-love  in  this  game,  three  to  two.  Mowbray 
and  Wright  are  winning.  How  do  you  do,  Mrs. 
Crofton?" 

The  pleasant,  easy  tones  were  so  unchanged,  the 
handsome  face  was  so  unchanged,  that  it  might  have 
been  but  yesterday  they  parted  in  the  driving  rain  of  an 
August  day.  Margery  had  not  seen  him  approaching ; 
but  as  she  shook  hands  with  him  and  smiled,  —  that 
trained,  social  smile  which  some  women  can  make  as 
softly  brilliant  over  the  terrible  moments  of  their  lives  as 
over  a  last  new  chiffon,  —  she  looked  straight  at  him. 
He  was  wearing  a  light  grey  suit  of  clothes  that  seemed 
equally  well-chosen  and  well-cut ;  the  voyage  had  tanned 
him  becomingly ;  his  air  of  smartness  and  animal  comeli- 
ness had  never  been  more  apparent.  Margery  looked, 
and  realised,  and  shuddered. 

"  How  are  you,  Colonel  Vibart  ?  "  she  said  carelessly. 
"  It  seems  so  funny  to  call  you  Colonel !  I  hope  I 
sha'n't  forget." 

Her  remark  was  as  much  to  the  group  round  her  as 
to  him.  Every  one  laughed. 

"  I  thought  how  well  we  were  both  doing  it,"  he  re- 
torted. "  I  have  more  to  remember  than  you.  You 
have  not  only  changed  your  title,  but  also  —  your  name." 

"  Did  you  get  it  up  beforehand  ?  "  she  queried  idly, 
her  eyes  wandering  away  to  Mowbray's  active  figure  as 
he  flew  after  the  balls.  She  wondered  if  he  could  see,  — 
if  he  had  noticed  Vibart's  approach.  She  remembered 
what  he  had  told  her,  and  turned  sick.  All  these  men 
round  her  had  guessed,  —  half  in  jest  they  had  bandied 
grisly  truths  about  her  from  one  to  the  other.  Yet  she 
could  hardly  get  it  home  to  herself  even  now ;  it  seemed 
impossible  that  this  big  fair  man  standing  before  her, 
chatting  easily  to  Mrs.  Drysdale,  had  been.  .  .  . 
The  old  feeling  of  irresponsibility  attacked  her.  It  was 
not  credible  that  she  could  have  done  anything  serious 
in  such  sunshine,  with  such  a  blue  sky  overhead  !  Yet 


The  Story  of  Eden  317 

she  and  Jack  —  and  there  was  Jack,  but  a  few  feet 
distant !  —  had.  .  .  . 

"  Suppose  we  go  and  look  at  the  other  courts  ?  "  she 
said  to  Major  Yeats  suddenly.  "  I  want  to  see  if  Polly 
is  winning." 

"  She  will  have  a  hard  task  against  Tennyson  and 
Miss  Hofman,''  he  returned,  as  they  strolled  off,  side  by 
side,  up  through  the  beds  where  the  autumn  violets 
were  already  beginning  to  show,  and  the  summer  roses 
growing  scarcer,  to  the  higher  courts,  where  Mrs. 
Johnnie  and  Starling  and  Valentine  Cayley  were  all 
sitting  on  a  rustic  seat,  indulging  in  criticism  and  desul- 
tory conversation.  They  made  room  for  Madge  at 
once,  and  she  sat  down,  surprised  to  find  that  her  knees 
were  trembling.  The  meeting  had  been  a  strain  on  her, 
natural  and  uneventful  as  it  had  been.  It  had  passed 
off  exactly  as  she  intended,  but  she  had  now  to  prevent 
either  references  or  speech  with  Vibart  alone.  There 
was  no  room  for  Yeats  on  the  seat,  and  he  stood  and 
looked  down  on  her,  his  eye-glass  stuck  firmly  in  his 
eye,  more  of  a  Du  Maurier  figure  than  ever,  with  his 
hands  behind  his  back. 

"  Have  you  been  overdoing  it  lately,  Mrs.  Crofton  ?  " 
he  said.  "  You  ought  to  beware  of  the  heat." 

"  No,  indeed,  I  have  hardly  been  anywhere.  This 
afternoon  is  my  first  dissipation  for  weeks.  Did  you  go 
to  the  dolls'  show,  Starling  ? " 

"  Yes,  we  made  up  a  big  party,  and  bought  exten- 
sively. I  hear  the  receipts  were  beyond  the  Missions' 
greatest  hopes." 

"  Who  was  with  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Polly  Harbord,  and  the  Redmaynes,  and  True, 
and  a  contingent  from  Simon's  Town.  True  carried 
home  the  dolls  for  us,  and  would  kiss  them  all  for 
good-night.  We  were  so  afraid  he  would  kiss  the  paint 
off." 

"  He  must  have  been  hard  up ! "  laughed  Madge, 


318  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  I  was  sorry  to  miss  the  show.     I  have  not  been  well 
lately." 

"  Get  your  husband  to  take  you  Home,"  advised 
Yeats,  briefly.  "  How  long  have  you  been  out?  Two 
years  ?  You  ought  to  get  a  change  now.  People  don't 
feel  it  at  first,  but  there  comes  a  time  when  one  wants 
to  get  out  of  Africa." 

His  thoughtful,  rugged  face  was  turned  from  Madge 
to  the  players  ;  but  she  wondered  for  a  moment  what  he 
meant  —  if  there  were  something  more  in  his  words  than 
the  obvious  meaning.  She  remembered  that  old  far- 
away discussion  with  him  at  the  Beatrice  dance,  when 
he  had  quoted  Browning  to  her.  She  had  re-read  the 
poem  since,  many  times,  and  thought  it  might  have  been 
a  warning,  were  it  not  a  chance  coincidence.  But  had 
it  been?  — 

"  Where  the  apple  reddens 

Never  pry  — 
Lest  we  lose  our  Edens, 
Eve  and  1 1 " 

Did  he  suspect  something  too  ?  Did  the  whole  world  — 
her  world  —  know  ?  She  felt  as  if  she  were  being  hard- 
pressed,  hunted,  enclosed  in  a  net.  It  was  a  relief  to 
her  to  see  True  approaching,  and  to  find  that  he  had 
come  to  renew  his  offer  of  tea.  Starling  had  already 
disappeared  tent-wards  with  V.  C.,  and  Madge  and  True 
followed  them. 

"  It  is  a  nuisance  having  no  courts  at  Simon's  Town," 
he  said.  "  That 's  the  worst  of  being  under  canvas  ! 
We  've  got  a  Mess  at  last,  though." 

"  No,  have  you?   How  did  you  manage  it?  " 

"  It 's  a  house.  A  man  offered  it  to  us,  we  were  so 
pathetically  homeless.  I  think  it  was  Pete,  —  he  always 
looked  hungry,  and  he  confided  to  our  Good  Samaritan 
landlord  that  he  had  n't  dined  in  comfort  for  a  month. 
Mind  the  flap  of  the  tent,  Lady !  " 

Margery  stooped  her  head,  and  went  in.     It  was  so 


The  Story  of  Eden  319 

shady  inside  that  after  the  glare  of  the  sunlight  she 
could  not  see  who  was  present.  A  long  table  ran  down 
the  centre,  loaded  with  teacups  and  urns  and  cakes,  and 
the  Duke's  dodged  to  and  fro,  acting  alternately  as 
waiters  and  dispensers  of  tea  and  coffee.  Margery 
leaned  against  the  table  and  blinked  at  the  chattering, 
moving  figures,  while  True  attended  to  her  wants. 

"  Shall  I  get  you  some  tea,  Lady  ?  "  he  said. 

"Yes,  please,"  she  returned.  "And  some  cake  — 
and  don't  forget  the  sugar.  Two  lumps  !  " 

"  Sweets  to  the  sweet !  "  he  smiled,  as  he  dropped 
them  in. 

"  Don't  be  obvious,"  said  Madge,  calmly.  "  What  is 
that  cake,  True  ?  Is  it  polo  ?  " 

"  Made  especially  for  you.     I  saw  to  it  myself." 

"  You  will  say  you  made  it  next.  Can  you  cook,  by 
the  way? " 

He  nodded.  "I  can  fry  fish  and  broil  chops.  I 
learned  when  we  were  out  for  the  manoeuvres." 

"  Very  well.  My  cook  is  going  because  he  got  tipsy 
one  night  and  dished  up  fruit  stones  instead  of  beans, 
and  Lanse  said  that  if  we  were  to  be  poisoned  it  might 
as  well  be  done  by  a  competent  person."  Her  laugh 
broke  through  her  next  words,  and  made  an  accompani- 
ment to  them.  "  I  thought  Thomas  was  very  com- 
petent. I  am  sure  the  fruit  stones  were  well  calculated 
to  finish  off  anybody  !  However,  there  was  a  great  fuss, 
and  Lanse  locked  him  up  in  the  stables  until  he  got  sober. 
Then  he  told  him  what  he  thought,  and  knocked  him 
down  ;  because  he  said  it  was  no  use  knocking  him  down 
while  he  was  tipsy,  he  would  never  get  up  again.  And 
now  Thomas  is  going,  and  I  Ve  asked  Major  Yeats  and 
Captain  Ransom  to  dinner  next  week.  Will  you  come 
and  cook  ?  " 

"  I  will  do  anything  in  the  world  for  you  !  "  said  True, 
softly,  gazing  into  her  eyes  with  rapt  devotion. 

"  What  a  truly  Trumanian  speech  ! "  exclaimed  Madge, 


320  The  Story  of  Eden 

between  her  laughter.  "Captain  Ransom,  when  you 
come  to  dinner  at  the  Rosary  next  week,  True  is  going 
to  cook  it ! " 

The  Brawler  was  pouring  out  tea  for  Mrs.  Johnnie, 
in  a  fashion  peculiarly  his  own.  He  half  filled  the  cup 
with  strong  tea,  and  then  dashed  in  the  milk  as  if  he 
thought  to  weaken  it  by  quantity  and  force. 

"  Oh,  Lord  ! "  he  said.  "  Mrs.  Crofton,  if  that  is  the 
case,  I  shall  take  another  fellow's  duty !  " 

" Is  it  so  bad  as  that?    He  says  he  can  cook." 

"  So  he  can  —  but  you  can't  eat  the  stuff  afterwards. 
We  had  a  dish  once  that  he  called  Irish  stew  —  it  came 
up  soup." 

"  But,  by  Jove  !  it  was  a  very  nourishing  soup,"  put 
in  Tennyson,  commencing  an  onslaught  on  the  sponge 
cake.  "  I  never  met  with  anything  so  sustaining.  I 
wanted  nothing  more,  and  the  Colonel  —  he  was  only 
Major  then  —  said  —  " 

Madge  turned  suddenly  to  True  ;  he  was  smiling  con- 
tentedly, listening  to  the  conversation,  and  with  that  air 
of  awaiting  her  pleasure  that  always  beset  him  with 
women. 

"  I  think,  on  the  whole,  you  would  make  a  better 
waiter  than  cook,"  she  said.  "  It  always  reassures  me 
so  to  know  that  you  are  near  me  at  a  meal.  I  feel 
that  every  sense  you  have  is  concentrated  on  my  plate, 
and  that  it  is  no  sooner  empty  than  it  will  be  full 
again." 

"  Let  me  get  you  some  more  biscuits  now,"  he  said. 
"  You  like  sugar  biscuits,  I  know.  Drawler,  just  move 
that  plate.  If  the  Bard  eats  any  more  sponge  cake  he 
will  miss  his  balls  next  set." 

Tennyson  made  a  snatch  as  Ransom  attempted  to 
take  the  plate,  whirled  round  backwards  with  his  booty, 
and  came  in  collision  with  a  heavy  body.  "  I  beg  your 
pardon,  sir  !"  he  said.  For  it  was  Vibart. 

"Good  Heavens,  Tennyson  !  what  are  you  doing?" 


The  Story  of  Eden  321 

said  the  Colonel.  Then  his  eyes  went  further  down  the 
table.  "Have  you  had  tea,  Mrs.  Crofton?"  he  said. 
"  This  seems  to  be  rather  a  dangerous  neighbourhood  — 
I  hope  they  have  not  been  charging  into  you  also  with 
plates  of  cake." 

"  No  thanks,  I  have  been  offered  food  in  a  less  for- 
midable fashion.  Captain  Truman  has  attended  to  my 
every  want." 

That  was  all.  They  met  each  other's  eyes  again  for  a 
moment  with  apparent  unconcern,  and  Madge  turned 
again  to  True. 

"  I  've  finished,"  she  said.  "  Take  me  away,  please,  I 
feel  fat !  And  there  are  heaps  of  people  waiting  for  our 
places.  Poor  things,  how  hungry  they  look." 

She  nodded  to  Mrs.  Johnnie  as  True  lifted  the  can- 
vas for  her  to  pass  out. 

"  Oh,  Madge !  "  said  the  latter,  "  I  forgot  to  tell  you 
that  I  met  your  husband  on  the  way  here,  and  offered 
him  a  lift.  He  looked  so  tired  !  I  think  he  was  com- 
ing back  from  Constantia,  I  suppose  he  spends  a  lot  of 
time  there  ?  " 

"  He  is  over  at  the  farm  most  mornings,"  said  Madge, 
pausing.  "  What  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  He  would  n't  accept  my  offer  — he  said  he  was  n't 
coming  to  Camp,  he  was  going  to  have  a  ride." 

For  a  moment  Margery's  blue  eyes  looked  big  and 
piteous  with  dismay.  But  the  tent  was  dusky,  and  she 
lowered  her  lids. 

"  Oh,  I  daresay  he  thought  the  Kaisir  needed  exer- 
cise —  I  did  n't  see  him  before  I  came  out,  but  I  expect 
that  is  it.  It 's  our  new  horse,  Mrs.  Johnnie, —  Lanse 
fusses  over  it  like  a  mother.  I  tell  him  he  gives  more 
time  to  the  Kaisir  now  than  to  me  !  " 

She  bent  her  head  and  followed  True  out  of  the  tent 
into  the  sunshine  which  had  lost  its  gold.  So  he  was  not 
coming  to  fetch  her  !  The  little  slight  stung  Madge  far 
more  than  downright  anger  would  have  done.  She 


322  The  Story  of  Eden 

knew  he  did  not  like  her  going  to  Camp, —  she  had 
rather  avoided  seeing  him  before  she  started,  on  this 
account,  fearing  that  he  might  say  something  to  deter 
her, —  but  she  had  taken  it  for  granted  that  he  would 
come  and  fetch  her.  That  his  displeasure  would  manifest 
itself  in  this  way,  had  never  occurred  to  her.  And  now 
she  must  drive  home  alone. 

"  I  don't  care  !  "  she  thought  indignantly.  "  I  won't 
care  !  Lanse  is  silly — why  should  he  go  off  and  leave 
me  to  myself  like  this?  Well,  I  shall  do  my  best  to 
enjoy  myself.  I  did  n't  want  to  come  —  I  had  to.  He 
need  n't  think  I  wanted  to,  goodness  knows  ! "  Then 
she  pulled  herself  up,  remembering  that  her  motive  in 
coming  had  been  one  which  she  could  never  explain, 
however  excellent  it  was  to  her. 

True  led  the  way  along  the  winding  walks  between 
the  flowery  beds,  and  Madge  followed  him,  chatting  in 
a  desultory  fashion,  while  he  picked  white  violets  for  her, 
and  made  them  into  a  tiny  bouquet  in  his  own  deft 
fashion. 

"  I  am  almost  sorry  I  am  wearing  a  white  gown  ;  they 
will  hardly  show  against  it,"  she  said.  "  Put  plenty  of 
leaves,  True,  the  green  will  throw  them  up.  How  are 
the  pigs  ?  " 

"  Very  well  —  too  well  for  Mr.  Lowndes'  peace  of 
mind  !  They  escaped  again  the  other  night.  They  al- 
ways get  out  on  Sunday.  I  think  they  must  want  to  go 
to  church.  He  told  me  he  had  to  pursue  them,  curs- 
ing!" 

"  How  very  wrong  for  the  Seraph.  I  like  the  idea  of 
Mr.  Lowndes  as  a  swine-herd." 

"  I  would  take  you  to  see  them,  but  I  have  to  collect 
the  players  for  the  next  set."  He  handed  her  the 
violets,  outlined  in  their  green  leaves,  and  then  paused, — 
she  wondered  if  there  were  a  significance  about  it,  after- 
wards,—  and  remarked  quietly,  "  Here  is  the  Colonel  1  " 

But  Madge  had  heard  his  heavy  step  on  the  gravel, 


The  Story  of  Eden  '323 

i 

some  minutes  before,  and  did  not  start.  He  had  come 
up  between  the  flower  beds,  winding  in  and  out  of  the 
walks,  as  if  hardly  following  them ;  indeed  Madge  had 
watched,  with  fascinated  eyes,  as  he  made  an  idle  detour, 
and  almost  sauntered  away  from  them  —  almost  —  only 
to  return.  The  Tracker  was  stalking. 

u  Robbing  the  Rutlandshires,  Mrs.  Crofton  ? "  he 
said,  in  his  usual  pleasant  manner,  as  he  reached  them. 
"The  garden  has  come  on  finely,  hasn't  it?  We  miss 
it,  over  at  Simon's  Town.  Truman,  they  are  giving  the 
defaulter's  call  for  you,  for  not  getting  the  players  to- 
gether. Don't  hurry,  my  dear  fellow,  let  them  look  after 
themselves  for  a  bit.  They  will  appreciate  you  all  the 
more." 

But  True  had  turned  away,  though  without  haste,  and 
disappeared  down  the  slope  to  the  courts.  He  was 
gone  before  Margery  had  collected  herself  to  follow  him. 
She  stood  where  she  was,  by  the  border,  half  in  sun  and 
half  in  shadow,  fastening  the  violets  into  her  breast. 

Vibart  watched  her.  They  were  alone  for  the  minute, 
and  he  lowered  his  voice  with  a  faculty  she  knew  well. 
"Have  you  quite  forgotten?"  he  said. 

She  made  a  slight  backward  movement,  involuntarily. 
During  their  intimacy  he  had  taught  her  to  carry  on  a 
double  conversation  with  him,  by  means  of  dropping  the 
voice  at  the  end  of  an  audible  commonplace,  and  add- 
ing words  of  far  greater  import,  in  order  that  they  might 
be  able  to  talk  to  each  other  when  a  third  person  was 
present.  Vibart  was  an  adept  in  the  art,  which  Madge 
speedily  caught,  and  they  sometimes  used  it  even  when 
at  the  moment  alone,  if  there  were  a  chance  of  their 
being  taken  by  surprise.  Margery  mechanically  dropped 
into  it  now,  raising  her  voice  to  comment  on  his  last  re- 
mark to  True,  before  she  lowered  it  to  answer  him  direct. 

"  Do  you  think  people  ever  really  appreciate  a  de- 
layed blessing? —  (I  have  not  forgotten,  but  I  am  truly 
sorry  to  remember ! )  " 


324  The  Story  of  Eden 

He  continued  with  the  same  caution.  "  I  did  n't  ex- 
actly call  Truman  a  blessing,  even  though  delayed. 
(Your  marriage  was  a  great  surprise  to  me.)  " 

"He  is  Umpire,  I  suppose? — (It  may  be  a  greater 
surprise  to  you  to  hear  that  I  love  my  husband  !)  "  The 
lowered  voice  was  defiant  now. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  so  —  (You  might  have  written  and 
told  me.  You  never  answered  my  letters.)  " 

"  He  must  have  his  hands  full  —  (I  thought  it  better 
not.)" 

"  I  believe  Truman  likes  it  —  (Your  affection  is  not  a 
very  lasting  thing,  is  it  ?)  " 

The  words  were  a  reproach  rather  than  a  taunt,  but 
they  roused  Madge  to  desperation.  She  must  speak 
now  and  defend  herself,  if  it  were  to  be  done  effectually. 
She  almost  felt  as  if  she  were  defending  Lanse  —  she 
was,  in  any  case,  defending  what  was  dearest  to  her  in 
all  the  world,  the  safe-guarding  of  his  love.  She  did  not 
care  if  she  hurt,  she  did  not  mind  if  she  were  brutal  or 
hard.  Her  sensations  were  probably  those  of  the  his- 
torical rat  in  the  corner,  who,  turned  to  bay,  becomes 
the  aggressor  rather  than  the  defendant.  She  aban- 
doned the  precaution  of  her  trivial  remarks  about  True, 
but  lowered  her  voice  to  one  level  as  she  spoke. 

"  I  want  you  to  understand,  now  and  once  for  all, 
that  all  feeling  I  ever  had  for  you  is  dead.  I  love  my 
husband  with  my  whole  heart,  and  I  never  wish  to  cast 
a  thought  beyond  him.  I  can  hardly  realise,  now,  that  I 
ever  professed  any  affection  for  you  —  I  am  very  sorry  I 
did,  for  it  has  utterly  vanished.  Will  you  please  under- 
stand, for  the  future,  that  we  are  the  merest  casual  ac- 
quaintances, and  the  less  we  see  of  each  other  the  better." 

There  was  no  time  to  say  any  more  —  she  had  hardly 
time  to  get  the  cold,  hurried  sentences  out  as  it  was  — 
for  Captain  Ransom  and  Beau  Livingston  joined  them, 
even  as  she  finished.  Madge's  only  anxiety  was  lest 
Vibart  should  not  have  understood.  She  feared  that,  in 


The  Story  of  Eden  325 

her  haste,  she  might  have  lost  the  weight  she  meant  her 
words  to  have.  But  surely  he  must  have  understood  ! 
He  was  far  too  much  of  a  man  of  the  world  to  approach 
her  again  if  he  had,  she  knew.  She  did  not  care  that 
she  had  spoken  with  such  terrible  directness.  If  it  an- 
swered her  purpose,  she  was  only  relieved.  The  inci- 
dent was  done  with,  closed,  once  and  forever,  and  she 
pushed  it  roughly  out  of  her  life. 

Livingston  and  Vibart  turned,  by  common  consent, 
and  went  off  to  the  Mess,  where  two  or  three  of  the 
Rutlandshires  promptly  plied  them  with  liquor  brandy, 
and  A.  W.  cigarettes,  which  they  had  but  lately  brought 
from  Egypt.  As  Beau  blew  the  heavy  fumes  through 
his  fine  nostrils,  he  sighed  with  satisfaction. 

"  It  is  a  melancholy  fact  that  tobacconists  cannot 
bring  themselves  to  import  the  best  cigarettes,"  he  re- 
marked. "  A  true  Egyptian,  my  dear  Jack,  is  beyond 
all  price  —  it  is  made  up  of  every  vice  under  the  sun, 
and  flavoured  with  tobacco ;  whereas  the  imitations 
offered  me,  even  in  Bond  Street,  were  really  made  up  of 
tobacco  and  the  flavour  of  vice  was  only  irritating." 

"What  are  these?  Argyropulo,  Weanings,  aren't 
they?  I  have  been  spoiling  my  palate  with  cigars  on 
board." 

"  It  is  a  pity  to  spoil  one's  palate  in  any  way.  The 
difficulty  of  retaining  an  appetite  is  bad  enough,"  Beau 
glanced  at  his  companion  as  he  spoke.  Their  eyes  met, 
and  they  laughed.  "  Have  you  seen  the  '  Owl '  this 
week  ?  "  the  elder  man  went  on. 

"  No  !     Anything  good  ?  " 

"This — "  he  began  to  tell  a  story;  as  he  reached 
the  point,  Lowndes  came  into  the  Mess  with  a  party  of 
ladies  whom  he  had  brought  to  see  the  Mess-plate. 

"  —  and  so  my  friend  shot  the  tiger  in  the  jungle  !  " 
said  Beau,  blandly.  The  woman  nearest  him  turned 
her  head  with  covert  interest,  as  if  she  suspected  hair- 
breadth escapes,  and  regretted  the  first  part  of  the  ad- 


326  The  Story  of  Eden 

venture.  Vibart  nearly  laughed.  "  Come  out  onto  the 
stoep ;  our  cigars  may  not  be  welcome,"  he  suggested, 
politely,  and  they  strolled  off  by  themselves,  increasing 
their  reputations  for  courtesy  in  the  feminine  eyes  that 
looked  after  them  with  appreciation. 

"  Did  you  notice  that  woman  who  wanted  to  hear  the 
rest  of  the  Owlish  story?"  said  Beau,  quietly.  "  Hand- 
some, isn't  she?" 

"Who  is  she?" 

"  A  Mrs.  Jackson  — her  husband  has  a  civil  appoint- 
ment. They  are  newcomers."  He  blew  a  ring  of 
smoke  and  looked  at  Vibart.  "  Margery  Crofton  has 
altered  a  good  deal,  has  n't  she  ?  "  he  said. 

"  She  looks  just  as  young." 

"  She  has  developed,  though.  She  is  five  times  as 
attractive  as  she  was  two  years  ago." 

"  I  hear  her  husband  is  a  Johannesburg  man." 

"  Well,  no.  Emphatically  English  as  a  fact.  He 
made  his  money  there  or  in  Rhodesia ;  but  the  smell  of 
the  making  does  not  stick  to  him.  I  was  rather  sur- 
prised to  find  Madge  married  —  she  did  it  when  my 
back  was  turned,  which  is  a  bad  habit  by  the  way,  —  but 
I  think  it  is  all  for  the  best." 

"  She  was  always  a  nice  little  girl,"  Vibart  said  quietly. 
He  was  not  spiteful. 

"  She  has  become  very  charming.  When  she  has  got 
over  the  influence  of  the  honeymoon,  she  may  be  dan- 
gerously so.  At  present  she  is  mentally  in  an  attitude 
of  devotion  before  her  husband.  Some  women  are  sub- 
ject to  it.  Fortunately,  however,  the  inborn  mischief  in 
Madge  will  betray  itself  later  on.  Then  we  shall  see." 

If  the  well-mannered,  well-bred  gentleman  known  as 
Beau  Livingston  had  been  possessed  by  Mephistopheles, 
he  could  not  have  calculated  the  weaknesses  of  his  Mar- 
guerite more  exactly.  He  had  always  known  where 
Madge  could  be  reckoned  upon  to  play  with  fire,  and 
the  knowledge  had  caused  him  great  diversion.  He 


The  Story  of  Eden  327 

acknowledged  her  innocent  enough  in  intention,  and 
full  of  good  resolutions  ;  but  it  amused  him  to  see  sheer 
vitality  and  high  spirits  betraying  the  earnestness  of  the 
saint. 

Vibart,  with  the  sting  of  his  late  rebuff  still  upon  him, 
could  hardly  agree  with  Beau's  prophecy ;  but  he  would 
have  liked  to  have  done  so  none  the  less.  Madge's  mar- 
riage had  been,  at  the  first  telling,  a  sore  to  his  vanity,  but 
when  he  got  more  used  to  the  thought  he  comforted  him- 
self with  the  philosophy  that  it  was  just  what  might  have 
been  expected,  and  it  need  not  alter  their  relations.  In- 
deed, he  came  to  think  that  Crofton  might  be  a  useful 
though  unconscious  ally,  and  took  a  pleasurable  anticipa- 
tion in  the  thought  of  meeting  Madge  again.  He  was 
deterred  from  making  an  active  move  towards  that  end  by 
the  fact  that  she  had  never  answered  his  letters,  and  also 
that  her  marriage  rather  removed  her  from  his  immediate 
influence.  But  he  looked  forward  to  seeing  her  person- 
ally, without  any  doubt  as  to  the  result.  Her  downright 
words  had  been  something  of  a  shock,  and,  in  spite  of 
his  reluctance,  he  recognised  the  genuineness  of  her  atti- 
tude towards  himself,  and  her  determination  to  see  no 
more  of  him.  He  thought,  rather  savagely,  that  possibly 
his  own  teaching  was  being  revenged  upon  him  now. 
He  had  always  impressed  the  brevity  of  human  affec- 
tions upon  Madge,  and  she  was  giving  him  a  practical 
demonstration  of  his  own  creed.  He  was  too  success- 
ful a  man  to  accept  his  own  defeat  as  final  after  the  first 
repulse ;  but  he  was  too  prudent  not  to  draw  back  at 
present,  and  wait. 

"She's  chucked  me  in  good  earnest  just  now,"  he 
said  in  his  heart.  "  And  my  expectations  of  going  on 
where  we  left  off  are  rather  rudely  dispelled.  .  .  .  She  's 
prettier  than  ever  !  .  .  .  I  wonder  what  the  other  fellow 
is  like  ?  Ten  chances  to  one  he 's  an  ugly  brute,  as  a 
contrast  to  Me.  Women  generally  rush  off  to  the  other 
extreme,  if  they  've  been  attracted  by  looks  first  .  .  .  J 


328  The  Story  of  Eden 

wish  I  could  get  Madge  all  to  myself  on  a  few  occasions 
—  I  could  always  get  her  to  hear  reason  if  we  had  a  good 
talk  —  and  no  fear  of  interruption  !  I  wonder  if  I  could 
make  her  jealous  again  ?  It 's  no  good  trying  Blanche  as 
a  decoy.  She  got  over  that  before,  and  did  n't  care  a 
hang  about  her  before  I  left  for  England." 

"  Shall  I  introduce  you  to  Mrs.  Jackson?"  Beau  said 
airily. 

"  Ah,  yes !  I  should  like  to  know  her ! "  Vibart  an- 
swered promptly.  "  Thanks,  for  the  offer  !  "  He  had 
a  great  respect  for  the  Devil,  as  that  gentleman  had 
before  this  occasion  answered  the  requests  he  had 
hardly  formulated  in  his  mind,  and  invariably  rendered 
him  every  assistance  in  his  power. 

Margery  went  home  by  herself,  as  she  had  predicted. 
Mowbray  walked  by  the  side  of  the  cart  to  the  limits  of 
the  Camp,  after  the  immemorial  custom  of  the  moth  and 
the  candle,  and  then  Madge  whipped  up  the  pony  and 
the  dog-cart  swung  out  into  the  road,  and  she  trotted 
home  under  the  fir-trees.  Lanse  had  sent  the  cart  up 
for  her,  though  he  had  not  come  himself;  she  was  glad 
he  had  kept  to  the  outward  courtesy  at  least,  she  thought 
grimly,  with  her  lips  set  and  her  blue  eyes  fixed  on  the 
lovely  Eden-like  prospect  of  green  hill  and  valley  rising 
and  falling  round  her.  She  was  thankful  at  heart  for  one 
thing,  in  spite  of  the  secret  vexation  of  the  afternoon,  — 
that  the  meeting  with  Vibart  was  over,  and  that  she  had 
come  to  some  sort  of  understanding  with  him.  It  was 
an  infinite  relief,  and  she  could  even  afford  to  forgive 
Lanse. 

He  was  not  in  when  she  came  home,  but  she  heard 
him  come  up  to  his  dressing-room  while  she  was  chang- 
ing her  own  gown,  and  they  met  at  the  dinner-table. 
Madge  was  coolly  indifferent,  and  Lanse  was  polite.  He 
inquired  who  had  won  the  match,  so  far,  —  for  it  was  to 
last  over  two  days,  —  and  said  what  a  beautiful  afternoon 
it  had  been.  Then  he  relapsed  into  silence.  At  first 


The  Story  of  Eden  329 

Madge  wanted  to  laugh  ;  then  she  felt  injured  —  then, 
with  sudden  dismay,  she  realised  that  this  might  develop 
to  a  first  quarrel.  She  looked  at  the  strong,  concen- 
trated face  opposite  her,  the  set  mouth,  and  the  eyes 
which  quietly  ignored  her,  and  she  saw  that  the  qualities 
which  had  made  her  husband  a  successful  man  were  just 
now  combining  to  resist  her  weaker  will.  When  the 
coffee  was  brought  to  them  on  the  stoep,  she  rose  sud- 
denly and  going  up  to  him  laid  her  hand  on  his 
shoulder. 

"  Lanse,  why  did  n't  you  come  and  fetch  me  this 
afternoon  ?  "  she  said. 

"  I  thought  you  probably  had  a  sufficient  escort." 

"  I  did  n't  want  any  one  but  you." 

"  Thanks,  I  don't  care  to  enter  into  competition  with 
your  other  friends." 

He  had  said  the  same  thing  once  before  they  were 
engaged,  she  remembered  half  impatiently.  "  I  think 
it  was  very  unkind  of  you  !  "  she  said  suddenly. 

"  Really  ?  It  would  hardly  have  occurred  to  me  to 
use  so  strong  a  word.  I  only  went  my  own  way  —  as 
you  had  gone  yours." 

She  looked  across  the  soft  warm  night  for  an  instant ; 
it  was  unusually  windless  and  relaxing,  and  the  crickets 
were  singing.  .  .  .  Driven  by  a  relentless  memory  of 
whose  force  he  could  not  dream,  she  turned  from  the 
eternal  ghost  of  her  former  self  brought  up  by  the  famil- 
iarity of  the  night,  and  sinking  on  her  knees  laid  her 
head  against  his  shoulder. 

"  Lanse  dearest,  if  you  don't  like  it,  I  will  never  go  to 
Camp  again  ! "  she  said  almost  passionately. 

He  was  totally  unprepared  for  her  attitude  or  words, 
and  for  a  moment  he  hesitated.  Then  the  soft  head  on 
his  shoulder  found  its  way  to  his  breast,  and  his  arms 
closed  round  her  as  if  without  his  will. 

M  Do  you  think  me  unreasonable  ?  "  he  said  after  * 
minute. 


The  Story  of  Eden 

"  No  —  only  I  did  n't  know  you  would  really  mind, 
or  of  course  I  would  n't  have  done  it. " 

"  I  did  mind.  It  cut  me  awfully  to  have  you  go  off 
like  that,  as  if  you  were  totally  indifferent  and  independent 
of  me.  If  you  had  asked  me  to  come  too,  I  would  have 
taken  you  with  pleasure." 

"  Oh,  Lanse,  I  took  it  for  granted  that  you  would  fetch 
me  as  usual !  "  she  stammered,  remembering  that  she  had 
not  wished  him  to  come  until  later  —  when  she  had  got 
it  over. 

"  I  don't  like  your  knocking  about  alone  amongst  all 
those  men,"  he  said  apologetically. 

"  Mrs.  Johnnie  was  there,  and  ever  so  many  other 
women.  Never  mind,  I  know  now  —  I  won't  do  it 
again."  She  thought  with  relief  that  she  had  accom- 
plished her  real  aim,  and  should  have  no  second  cause. 
For  a  second  they  neither  of  them  spoke.  His  hand 
was  playing  restlessly  with  her  hair,  as  she  leaned  on  his 
breast,  feeling  thankful  in  her  heart  that  the  difficulty 
was  over. 

"Madge,"  he  said  abruptly,  "why  did  you  go  alone, 
and  not  ask  me  to  come  with  you  ?  " 

Her  heart  stood  still ;  she  was  afraid  he  would  feel  it 
throb  the  next  moment,  and  drew  herself  almost  imper- 
ceptibly a  shade  further  off.  "  My  dear  boy,  I  never 
meant  to  !  "  she  said  with  the  fluency  of  her  terror.  "  I 
thought,  of  course,  you  did  n't  want  to  come,  as  you 
always  get  tired  and  restless  when  you  stay  through 
these  affairs  —  I  expected  you  to  fetch  me  as  usual." 

"  I  suppose  you  think  me  a  suspicious  brute,  even  for 
the  idea,"  he  acknowledged.  "  But  I  have  been  won- 
dering all  the  afternoon  if  you  could  have  a  reason. 
Don't  think  I  'm  blaming  you  —  but  I  daresay  you  get 
more  fun  when  you  have  n't  a  husband  hanging  about  in 
the  background." 

Mowbray's  words,  "  And  of  course  you  do  flirt ! " 
recurred  to  her  mind.  She  felt  as  if  Lanse's  reluctant 


The  Story  of  Eden  331 

suspicions  reopened  the  gate  of  the  past  that  she  had 
thought  so  firmly  closed. 

"  I  think  you  might  trust  me  better,"  was  all  she  said 
gently.  "  I  don't  think  I  wait  till  your  back  is  turned, 
and  then  begin  a  flirtation,  Lanse  ! " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  dearest,  —  I  know  it  sounded  as 
if  I  were  insulting  you."  He  was  honestly  remorseful, 
and  his  caresses  became  more  demonstrative.  It  cost 
Madge  a  pang  to  realise  that  if  she  had  been  another 
woman  she  might  have  been  justly  hurt,  and  kept  up  her 
dignity  to  punish  him ;  but  her  sense  of  justice  and 
honesty  really  prevented  her  resenting  his  words  as  she 
half  wanted  to  do. 

"  Lanse,  do  you  know  that  we  came  to  the  verge  of  a 
quarrel  ?  "  she  said  rather  gravely  after  a  minute. 

"  I  know.     I  was  awfully  mad  with  you,  Madge  ! " 

"  Oh,  don't  let  us  risk  it  again !  "  she  cried  in  sudden 
fear.  "  Whatever  happens,  let  us  try  to  avoid  that.  We 
should  drift  apart.  You  would  wrap  yourself  up  in  your 
reserve,  and,  however  sorry  I  grew,  after  a  time  I  shouldn't 
be  able  to  make  you  understand.  And  I  'm  hot  tem- 
pered too,  and  spoilt  I  daresay.  Lanse,  if  you  are  vexed 
with  me,  tell  me  so  straight  out,  and  why.  I  may  be 
angry  and  argue  and  defend  myself,  but  it  will  be  better 
—  we  sha'n't  go  on  nursing  our  bitterness  anyhow." 

He  was  a  little  ashamed  of  himself,  and  inclined  to 
spoil  her  now.  "  I  won't  have  you  maligning  yourself," 
he  said.  "  You  are  the  best  tempered  little  soul  under 
the  sun  !  I  am  a  sullen  brute,  I  know,  and  vindictive. 
Madge,  we  won't  drift  apart.  We  '11  remember  this 
threatening  of  a  row,  and  our  reconciliation.  Let's 
go  somewhere  to-morrow  all  by  ourselves,  and  have  a 
kind  of  honeymoon  again,  just  for  the  day.  The  social 
life  here  has  come  in  between  us  a  little.  Have  you 
anything  on?" 

"  Nothing  I  could  n't  put  off —  I  would  put  it  off  any- 
how." It  was  the  second  day  of  the  Tournament,  but 


332  The  Story  of  Eden 

she  did  not  even  refer  to  that.  "  Let 's  go  for  a  ride, 
Lanse,  all  by  ourselves." 

"  Very  well,  only  we  must  n't  overdo  it.  You  have  n't 
been  strong  lately." 

"  Where  shall  we  go  ?  Out  to  Simon's  Town,  or  Tokai, 
or  where  ?  " 

"No,  they're  all  too  public  and  crowded.  I'll  tell 
you  what  —  I  '11  take  you  over  to  Hout's  Bay.  It 's 
about  the  only  place  we  never  went  to  while  we  were 
engaged.  I  was  there  one  day  last  week,  and  I  thought 
what  a  pretty  little  place  it  was.  Besides  it 's  as  lonely 
as  the  Karroo  now." 

Margery  put  his  arms  away  from  her,  and  got  up  as  if 
tired  with  kneeling.  Her  eyes  went  away  over  the  soft 
starlit  night  where  the  crickets  sang.  She  said  nothing. 

"  Would  n't  you  like  it,  Madge?" 

"Oh,  yes  —  I  think  it  would  be  lovely  !  I  was  only 
thinking  it  was  rather  a  long  way  —  1  have  n't  ridden 
much  lately." 

"  Oh,  well,  we  won't  ride  —  I  '11  drive  you  over.  That 
would  be  better,  perhaps,  in  this  heat." 

"  But  I  thought  you  wanted  to  ride  —  " 

"  I  only  want  to  be  with  you,  away  from  every  one 
else.  I  don't  care  a  hang  how  I  get  there ! " 

"  But,  Lanse,  there  are  excursions  every  day,  and  heaps 
of  tourists  there,  are  n't  there  ?  " 

"  Not  so  late  in  the  season.  There  may  be  a  few  at 
the  Hotel,  but  we  can  get  away  from  them  on  the 
beach.  We  '11  go  down  in  the  morning,  and  come 
home  to  supper.  You  don't  know  Hout's  Bay  well,  do 
you?" 

"  Not  very  well, "  she  said  hopelessly.  The  saving 
clause  was  his  making  a  day  of  it ;  if  he  had  proposed 
staying  the  night,  she  felt  that  at  all  risks  she  must  have 
refused.  The  mere  contemplation  drove  her  mad.  It 
was  the  one  spot  in  the  neighbourhood  which  she  had 
always  avoided,  and  so  successfully  that  for  nearly  two 


The  Story  of  Eden  333 

years  she  had  never  been  as  far  as  the  Nek  even.  Be- 
fore Vibart  left,  while  she  was  still  meeting  him  secretly, 
they  had  several  times  ridden  out  that  way  together,  but 
never  as  far  as  the  Bay  again.  All  her  memories  of  the 
road  were,  however,  connected  with  him,  and  she  made 
up  her  mind  to  the  pain  and  humiliation  of  the  excur- 
sion beforehand.  Supposing  that  Eve  had  never  tempted 
Adam  to  share  the  forbidden  fruit,  but  had  kept  her 
knowledge  and  her  sin  to  herself,  would  not  her  punish- 
ment have  been  as  great  or  greater,  though  she  still  dwelt 
in  Eden,  and  only  her  shamed  heart  knew  that  God  had 
placed  His  Angel  at  the  gates  of  her  lost  innocence ! 
The  Serpent  would  never  have  told,  —  he  was  not  the 
betrayer  of  the  secret,  —  Adam  would  never  have  known, 

—  God  might  have  waited  for  her  confession  with  His 
terrible  patience  ;  but  the   condemnation  would   have 
been  just  as  completely  carried  out,  and  Paradise  lost 
to  her,  though  she  was  actually  within  it. 

Margery  felt  a  dim  surprise  that  the  various  features 
of  the  road  were  so  familiar  to  her;  they  seemed  to 
have  been  so  impressed  on  her  brain  that  it  might  have 
been  only  last  week  she  took  this  same  journey  in  the 
hired  cart,  with  the  inscrutable  silent  figure  of  Caroline 
beside  her.  She  wondered  what  became  of  that  woman 

—  the  one  witness  whom  she  had  to  fear,  for  the  Hotel 
people  knew  nothing  of  the  connection  between  her 
and  Vibart.   They  had  stayed  there  the  same  night ;  but 
as  strangers  to  each  other  on  the  face  of  things.    She 
looked  round  her  dreamily  as  they  drove  through  the 
sun  and  shadow  of  the  firs  —  past  the  red  and  golden 
fields  of  Constantia  —  up  through  the  whispering  silver- 
trees  —  over  the  Nek,  leaving  Wynberg  behind  them  in 
the  cup  of  the  hills,  and  descending  into  the  wilder  and 
more  African  country  towards  the  Bay.     It  was  all  of  a 
dreadful  sameness  with  the   past,    though   when  they 
drew  up  in  the  sand  before  the  Hotel  the  broad  sunlight 
blazed  on  mountain-side  and   bare    big    house,   and 


334  The  Story  of  Eden 

drew  shadows  of  the  oak-trees  in  black  and  gold,  instead 
of  black  and  silver,  across  the  dusty  ground.  Crofton 
lifted  her  down  out  of  the  cart,  and  Madge  walked 
slowly  into  the  Hotel  to  wait  for  him  ;  she  thought  for 
a  minute  that  one  of  the  servants  looked  at  her  curiously, 
but  she  kept  her  face  studiously  under  control. 

There  were  a  party  of  excursionists  to  lunch  in  the 
large  room  where  she  had  dined  with  Caroline,  —  one  of 
the  big  Cape  Town  firms  had  brought  down  their  em- 
ployees for  the  day.  Madge  and  Crofton  amused  them- 
selves with  watching  and  remarking  on  them,  while  they 
ate  their  luncheon.  The  drive  had  given  him  an  ap- 
petite; but  Madge  struggled  to  swallow  her  food  in  vain. 
At  any  moment  it  seemed  to  her  she  would  start  to  find 
the  broad  midday,  the  tourists,  her  husband  himself,  only 
a  dream  ;  it  would  be  night,  with  a  single  chandelier 
burning  at  one  end  of  the  room,  herself  seated  at  the 
little  table  in  the  window  with  that  strange  woman  op- 
posite her,  and  on  the  further  side  of  the  room  another 
visitor  who  hardly  exchanged  a  glance  with  her,  and  yet 
she  knew  him  to  be  a  big  handsome  man  in  riding  dress, 
who  was  eating  his  dinner  as  unconcernedly  as  though 
there  were  no  electric  chord  of  mutual  understanding 
between  them.  .  .  . 

"  Let 's  get  out  of  this,  and  go  down  to  the  sea,  dar- 
ling," Lanse  said.  Margery  pushed  her  plate  away,  and 
followed  him  with  relief. 

At  least  this  part  of  the  excursion  was  strange  to  her. 
The  path  was  rugged  and  steep,  and  they  walked  slowly 
in  the  midday  heat.  It  struggled  upwards,  along  the 
face  of  the  mountain -side,  skirting  the  Bay,  into  which 
they  looked  down  as  at  a  picture.  White  sand  and  olive- 
green  trees,  a  few  houses  built  absolutely  into  the  sand, 
a  group  of  fisher  cottages  on  the  further  side  of  the  Bay, 
a  ring  of  blue  sea,  and  white  surf  rolling  in  round  the 
smooth,  warm-coloured  rocks.  They  skirted  a  head- 
land, and  came  out  above  the  further  bay,  past  the  wild 


The  Story  of  Eden  335 

scrub  and  undergrowth  where  some  Kaffir  children  were 
calling  to  each  other,  their  voices  breaking  clearly  into 
the  golden  quiet  of  the  afternoon.  Then  the  path 
dipped  half-way  down  the  cliff,  and  Madge  and  Lanse 
took  hands  like  two  children  themselves,  and  sauntered 
on  together  until  a  perfect  solitude  contented  them,  and 
they  sat  down  on  the  grass  beyond  the  path,  —  it  was 
little  more  than  a  track,  —  in  the  shadow  of  the  moun- 
tain-side, and  overlooking  the  sunny  seas. 

"  How  perfect,  and  how  lonely  !"  she  said  clasping 
her  two  hands  round  her  knees.  He  lay  beside  her 
with  his  head  against  her  arm,  and  looked  out  across 
the  world  also. 

"  Just  you  and  me,  and  no  one  else,"  he  said,  putting 
her  thought  into  words. 

"  If  we  could  only  stay  so  !  " 

"  We  can't ;  but  we  've  had  it,  and  we  shall  always 
know  it 's  there,  waiting  for  us  if  we  want  it,  now.  This 
can't  run  away." 

"  Lanse,  does  n't  it  make  you  feel  little  ?  This  has  al- 
ways been  here,  —  it  always  will  be  here,  —  never  mind 
who  comes  and  looks  at  it.  If  we  were  the  first  inhab- 
itants, savages,  or  the  Dutch,  or  ourselves,  or  future  gen- 
erations of  any  Nation,  it  would  be  just  as  lovely  for 
them  ! " 

"  I  wonder  what  will  be  the  future  of  South  Africa  ! 
It 's  a  big  country,  Madge,  and  it 's  got  big  resources. 
It  will  come  nearer  England  every  year  with  these  rec- 
ord passages.  There  may  come  a  day,  though  not  in 
our  time,  when  people  will  run  over  to  the  Cape  for  a 
holiday,  instead  of  to  the  Continent.  Then  Hout's  Bay 
will  be  like  Boulogne  or  Dieppe  !  "  He  laughed  at  his 
own  fancy,  contrasted  with  the  lovely  loneliness  of  the 
Bay  far  down  beneath  his  feet. 

"  Fancy  a  parade  down  there  ! "  said  Madge.  "  And 
a  bandstand  !  The  sea  anemones  would  curl  up  and 
die  with  disgust,  and  those  lovely  coloured  seaweeds 


336  The  Story  of  Eden 

would  all  disappear,  and  the  maidenhair  growing  over 
the  little  streams  among  the  rocks  (Starling  and  I  came 
down  here  once  and  found  such  treasures  on  the  beach  !) 
would  be  used  for  penny  button-holes !  Ugh  !  how 
horrid ! " 

"  I  wonder  if  they  would  make  the  button-holes 
of  prickly  pear  or  sugar-bushes ! "  laughed  Lanse. 
"  Things  grow  rather  too  large  in  Africa  to  adapt  them- 
selves to  pocket  luxuries  ! " 

"  I  am  more  interested  in  the  future  of  your  wine 
farm,  than  in  Africa,  after  all,"  said  Madge.  "  I  have 
a  commercial  mind.  Don't  let 's  go  back  to  the  Hotel 
for  tea,  Lanse.  I  am  not  a  bit  hungry  out  here  in  the 
blue  and  gold  !  " 

"You  will  be  later,  what  with  mountain  and  sea 
air.  We  can  have  it  before  we  start  homewards,  about 
six.  The  sun  will  be  going  down  then." 

"  It  will  be  a  dark  drive,"  remarked  Madge,  content- 
edly. She  was  very  happy,  and  she  had  learned  to  hoard 
her  happiness  from  moment  to  moment,  so  often  had  it 
been  threatened  of  late.  They  sat  there  in  the  ripening 
afternoon,  without  speaking ;  but  she  was  conscious  that 
he  had  moved  nearer  her  to  touch  her,  and  the  human 
contact  gave  the  one  note  of  comfort  wanted  in  the  vast 
beauty  of  the  solitary  place.  The  old  influence  of  the 
great  land  was  upon  her  ;  she  felt  Africa  again,  as  she 
had  done  on  that  former  fateful  night.  Strange  that  the 
soul  of  the  country  always  seemed  more  demonstrative 
and  apparent  here,  in  this  little  insignificant  corner  of 
the  Peninsula.  It  was  but  a  crack  in  the  Continent,  a 
tiny  Bay  in  a  tag  of  land  jutting  out  from  the  great  bulk 
itself;  yet  it  seemed  to  Madge  more  real  and  impressive 
than  anything  she  knew  save  the  blank  spaces  of  the 
Karroo. 

They  sat  and  watched  the  sun  get  lower,  talking  in  a 
desultory  fashion  now  and  then.  As  the  liquid  glory 
touched,  the  cliff  to  their  left,  they  grew  more  silent  \ 


The  Story  of  Eden  337 

then  it  reached  the  water  and  rippled  towards  them 
along  a  wide  path  of  blue  sea,  and  then  Lanse  raised 
himself  from  his  recumbent  position  to  his  knees. 

"Come,  dear,  we  must  be  going,"  he  said.  He  was 
still  kneeling  before  her,  and  in  the  sacrament  of  the  de- 
scending light  he  took  her  face  in  his  hands  and  kissed 
her.  "  I  love  you  !  "  he  said,  as  if  he  had  found  a  new 
beauty  in  the  words,  and  was  awed  by  the  wonder  of  his 
own  feeling.  Madge  did  not  answer.  She  kissed  him 
across  the  grief  of  her  past  and  its  secret.  That  shadow 
lay  between  them  for  all  their  lives,  —  she  knew  it  in  the 
moment,  and  wondered  with  pain  if  it  would  reach 
after  her  into  another  existence.  Are  all  deeds  so  irrad- 
icable,  so  implacable  in  their  consequences  ?  she  thought. 
Can  we  never  lose  touch  with  our  past  selves?  Lanse 
caught  the  look  on  her  face  and  said  to  himself, 
"  She  is  a  woman.  She  was  a  girl  when  I  married  her. 
I  have  felt  her  growing  older  for  some  time ;  but  I  did 
not  realise  that  she  was  only  developing,  as  marriage  de- 
velops all  women.  Her  face  is  altering  a  little  —  there 
is  more  in  it."  There  was,  —  but  it  was  a  mental  expe- 
rience, and  no  mere  physical  one,  that  had  wrought  the 
change.  He  could  teach  her  body  nothing  that  it  did 
not  know ;  but  her  mind  and  soul  were  responsive  to 
his  touch.  He  held  the  key  of  them.  Could  he  but 
have  appreciated  it,  —  but  then  he  must  have  been  more 
than  a  man,  —  it  was  a  greater  gain  than  the  loss  he  did 
not  know  he  had  sustained. 

They  went  back  along  the  mountain  track,  holding  each 
other's  hands  again  like  the  children.  The  light  was 
getting  low  as  they  rounded  the  cliff.  Madge  uttered  a 
little  soft  exclamation,  as  reverent  as  though  she  stood 
before  a  great  work  of  art  in  a  cathedral.  For  if  she 
looked  to  the  right,  it  was  like  Switzerland,  the  white 
sand  that  had  drifted  far  up  the  hills  gleaming  like  snqw 
under  the  pinky  flush,  the  Little  Lion  couchant,  as  a 
sentinel,  and  the  long  line  of  rocky  heights,  which  ended, 


338  The  Story  of  Eden 

in  Table  Mountain  guarding  the  Bay  ;  but  if  she  looked 
to  the  left,  beyond  Hout's  Bay  into  the  further  bay  above 
which  they  had  been  sitting,  it  was  surely  Cornwall,  for 
nowhere  else  does  one  see  that  vivid,  broken  line  of 
coast,  with  the  warm-coloured  cliffs  and  the  torn  white 
spray  dashed  up  so  high  over  the  great  rocks  that  it  al- 
most seemed  like  a  cloud  against  the  intense  green  of 
the  vegetation ;  and  yet  again,  if  she  looked  right  out 
beyond  the  land-locked  Bay,  behold  it  was  Italy,  as 
deeply,  royally  blue  as  Naples,  with  the  speckless  sky 
that  hangs  over  Venice.  And  all  this  in  one  corner  of 
our  despised,  beautiful  Africa,  which  is  said  to  be  nothing 
but  a  sunburnt  rock  !  Something  in  the  disdainful  line 
of  the  granite  mountains  scorns  the  calumny. 

It  was  a  dark  drive  home,  as  Madge  had  predicted ; 
but  the  lights  came  out  under  the  firs  of  Constantia,  and 
she  sat  close  to  Lanse,  too  full  of  the  moment's  peace 
and  rest  from  her  usual  fear  to  want  to  talk.  She  had 
closed  her  eyes  and  ears  to  memory  in  the  short  time 
of  their  return  to  the  Hotel,  which  would  have  seemed 
like  a  repetition  of  her  former  visit.  To  her  own  sur- 
prise, she  was  almost  sorry  that  the  day  was  over.  She 
had  looked  forward  to  it  as  to  a  pain  that  must  be  borne, 
but  the  experience  of  the  afternoon  had  no  forerunner 
to  darken  it,  and  she  stored  it  up  as  a  pure  bright  space 
in  her  life.  She  could  feel  that  Lanse  was  happy  too, 
by  some  occult  sympathy.  He  had  no  doubts  of  her,  for 
this  hour  at  least,  and  his  left  hand  closed  on  hers 
under  the  rug,  while  he  held  the  reins  with  his  right.  If 
it  could  have  been  always  like  this !  she  thought.  If 
only  no  dread  of  dead  passions  had  come  to  shake  her 
security !  How  little  women,  who  had  no  such  cause 
for  fear,  realised  their  own  great  blessing  ! 

Lanse  jumped  down  at  his  own  gates,  and  lifted  her 
out  tenderly.  There  was  a  little  added  touch  of  pos- 
session about  him,  to  which  she  felt  warmly  responsive. 
It  was  almost  as  if  he  brought  her  home  for  the  first  time. 


The  Story  of  Eden  339 

"  We  have  drifted  apart  a  little,"  she  thought  with  a 
panic  of  recognition.  "  It  is  the  secret  between  us, 
which  he  feels  and  cannot  explain.  Oh,  what  a  horri- 
ble punishment  for  me  if  it  parted  us,  though  I  never 
betrayed  it !  Pray  God  I  won't  let  it  though.  Last 
night's  threatened  quarrel  brought  about  a  better  under- 
standing." —  "  Letters  !  "  she  said  aloud  brightly,  taking 
up  a  pile  from  the  hall  table.  "  Quite  a  lot !  Two  for 
you  from  Johannesburg,  Lanse,  one  for  me  from  Starling 
(that  was  left  by  hand),  one  actually  from  Anthony  !  " 
She  broke  the  last  envelope,  and  read  it,  standing  there. 
Then  she  turned  back  and  re-read  it.  Then  she  gave 
a  little  laugh  that  was  half  a  gasp,  and  laid  her  hand  on 
Lanse's  arm  to  draw  his  attention,  for  he  was  deep  in 
his  own  correspondence. 

"  Lanse,  prepare  for  a  shock  !  "  she  said.  "  What  do 
you  think  has  happened  ?  Anthony  is  going  to  marry 
Blanche  Cromo  Dame  ! " 

They  stared  at  each  other  blankly  for  a  moment,  and 
then  burst  into  simultaneous  mirth. 

"  Well,  I  'm  damned  !  "  remarked  Lanse,  feelingly.  "  I 
beg  your  pardon,  Madge,  but  I  am  too  surprised  to 
choose  my  words.  Let  me  look  at  the  letter  —  yes,  by 
Jove  !  no  doubt  about  it.  Well !  .  .  .  " 

"  Blanche  is  a  clever  woman,"  remarked  Margery, 
with  a  half  humorous  tightening  of  her  lips.  "  Well,  I 
hope  they  will  be  happy  —  I  really  do  !  I  can  hardly 
grasp  the  idea,  though.  But  I  say,  Lanse  !  —  " 

"Well?" 

"  I  really  don't  know  which  I  am  the  most  sorry  for ! 
I  think,  however,  that  it 's  Blanche." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

*  Fit  sire  was  he  of  a  selfish  race, 

Who  first  to  temptation  yielded, 
Then  to  mend  his  case  tried  to  heap  disgract 

On  the  woman  he  should  have  shielded. 
Say  !  comrade  mine,  the  forbidden  fruit 

We  'd  have  plucked,  that  I  well  believe, 
But  I  trust  we  'd  rather  have  suffered  mute 

Than  have  laid  the  blame  upon  Eve," 

THE  Professor  could  not  be  said  to  be  a  comfortable 
object  in  his  position  of  fiance\  There  was  something 
furtive  and  uneasy  about  him  on  the  few  occasions 
when  he  appeared  in  the  train  of  his  prospective  wife, 
and  his  smile  on  receiving  congratulations  was  more  sug- 
gestive of  some  inward  spasm  than  irrepressible  joy. 
Margery  swallowed  her  amazement,  and  expressed  her 
hope  that  they  would  be  happy  with  real  cordiality. 
She  had  a  cultivated  liking  for  Blanche,  and  foresaw  that 
the  Hand-painted  Lady  would  be  a  satisfactory  connec- 
tion, being  far  too  wise  a  woman  to  encourage  family 
quarrels  or  recriminations.  The  only  satire  in  which 
Margery  indulged  at  her  brother's  expense  was  to  remark 
to  him  dryly  that  she  felt  glad  she  had  proved  so  satis- 
factory a  housekeeper  that  he  found  his  household 
unbearable  after  her  departure  !  To  which  the  Professor 
retorted  that  his  wife  would  be  in  a  slightly  different 
position  to  that  which  she  had  held. 

"  Oh  —  yes  !  "  said  Margery,  thoughtfully.  "  I  hope 
Blanche  will  find  the  difference  profitable  ! " 

Mrs.  Cromo  Dame  took  four  months  to  arrange  her 
affairs  and  provide  her  trousseau,  and  married  the  Pro- 
fessor at  the  end  of  July.  The  intervening  time  passed 


The  Story  of  Eden  341 

smoothly  for  Margery.  No  new  complications  arose  to 
threaten  her  Paradise,  and  the  exercise  of  a  little  pru- 
dence held  the  balance  between  her  social  life  and  Lan- 
sing. It  was  improbable  that  such  factors  in  his  wife's 
existence  as  Wynberg  Camp  and  Beaumont  Livingston 
would  ever  recommend  themselves  to  him  ;  but  without 
entirely  discarding  her  amusements,  Margery  contrived 
to  keep  what  she  valued  far  more,  his  companionship 
and  confidence.  She  was  inclined  to  lift  up  her  head 
again,  and  to  whisper  to  herself  that  the  Gods  had 
forgotten  their  vengeance,  and  she  might  dwell  in 
security. 

The  chief  disturbance,  as  also  the  chief  interest  just 
then,  lay  in  the  political  situation.  Margery  heard  it 
discussed  on  all  sides,  among  those  whose  views  coin- 
cided, and  heard  also  the  private  opinions  of  men  who 
could  weigh  the  Imperial  Government  and  the  Transvaal 
Government,  and  spoke  strongly.  There  was  a  loosen- 
ing of  the  cords  of  the  Empire  in  those  days,  and  the 
Colonists  shut  their  lips  and  awaited  Great  Britain's 
decision  before  they  would  commit  themselves.  The 
undercurrent  of  excitement  touched  even  the  social  life  ; 
Margery  felt  it,  and  felt  the  indecision  of  those  whose 
interest  lay  in  Africa,  while  their  sentiments  were  as  a 
link  with  the  Mother  Country  which  might  snap  be- 
neath the  strain.  Cape  Colony  was  loyal  in  the  main, 
except  in  the  ultra  Dutch  districts  ;  but  the  very  practi- 
cal qualities  which  make  the  English  the  best  builders 
of  an  empire,  prevent  their  sacrificing  sense  to  senti- 
mentalism.  "  We  have  colonised  for  England,  —  we 
have  established  ourselves  here,  and  increased  her  pros- 
perity, —  what  is  she  going  to  do  for  us  now  ?  Will  she 
assert  herself,  or  will  she  lose  her  prestige  in  South 
Africa,  and  leave  us  stranded  ?  Better  a  United  South 
Africa,  fighting  for  itself,  than  an  incapable  Government," 
said  the  Colony.  The  most  British  portion  of  the  popu- 
lation chafed  under  the  delay  of  that  terrible  period., 


342  The  Story  of  Eden 

while  two  Governments  played  at  Conferences,  and  the 
whole  Empire  stood  looking  on  gravely,  and  Europe 
screamed  itself  hoarse  without  understanding  or  judg- 
ment. At  times  the  larger  question  was  broken  into  by 
side  issues,  and  local  interests,  as  on  the  morning  when 
all  the  suburbs  hummed  with  the  news  of  Sauer's  stop- 
page of  the  trains,  and  the  probable  arrival  of  the  Pro- 
gressives too  late  to  vote  at  Vryburg.  The  papers 
flamed  over  it,  and  party  feeling  ran  higher  than  ever 
against  the  stolid  Bond  party.  The  failure  of  the  com- 
mission brought  a  lull,  and  the  social  round  went  on  as 
usual  again,  and  the  regiments  chafed,  and  rumours  of 
troops  being  sent  to  the  Border  were  rife.  But  July 
came  in  with  its  cold  and  wet,  and  things  were  still  un- 
decided on  the  day  when  Anthony  Cunningham  was 
married. 

A  winter  wedding  is  less  attractive  than  a  summer 
one.  There  was  a  chilly  feeling  in  the  rooms  at  the 
Rosary,  where  Madge  and  Lanse  had  undertaken  the 
wedding  breakfast,  and  the  guests  seemed  to  find  a 
greater  attraction  in  the  cheerful  fires  than  in  the  gar- 
den, though  the  sun  shone  fitfully  at  intervals. 

"  Not  such  a  wedding-day  as  mine  !  "  thought  Madge, 
as  she  moved  to  and  fro  chattering  to  her  friends.  "  But, 
oh,  how  thankful  I  am  that  it  did  not  have  to  be  at  Vine 
Lodge  !  It  is  bad  enough  having  Jack  Vibart  here,  — • 
it  is  the  first  time  he  has  been  under  this  roof.  I  wish 
he  had  not  accepted  Anthony's  invitation." 

Vibart  was,  however,  very  much  present,  and  entirely 
at  his  ease,  —  handsome  and  well-dressed,  smiling  with 
a  cynicism  that  was  without  bitterness  upon  the  bride' 
groom's  sister  and  the  bride  herself,  with  both  of  whom 
he  had  been  on  peculiar  terms.  Margery  felt  she 
loathed  herself  as  the  situation  flashed  upon  her,  — 
Jack,  Blanche,  and  herself!  She  could  hardly  persuade 
herself  that  if  he  had  succeeded  with  a  perfectly  ignorant 
girl,  whose  very  innocence  presented  certain  difficulties, 


The  Story  of  Eden  343 

that  he  had  not  been  met  half  way  by  such  a  woman 
as  Blanche.  Bah  !  how  cheap  it  made  her  feel !  how  it 
coarsened  the  relations  between  men  and  women,  mak- 
ing even  marriage  a  kind  of  mockery.  She  did  not 
condemn  Blanche ;  a  certain  power  of  reason  made 
Margery  broad-minded  enough  to  allow  people  to  judge 
for  themselves ;  but  she  suffered  a  new  humiliation  from 
Vibart's  mere  presence.  Why  had  he  come?  Surely 
he  must  have  known  that  she  would  never  have  sent 
him  the  invitation  if  Anthony  had  not  requested  it 
Vibart  had  called  at  the  Rosary  once  when  Madge  had 
been  out ;  the  circumstance  had  not  struck  her  much, 
for  she  put  it  down  to  caution  on  his  part,  lest  his  not 
calling  should  have  a  particular  look  from  their  being 
old  acquaintances.  Once  or  twice,  also,  he  had  at- 
tempted to  talk  to  her  when  they  met  at  the  houses  of 
mutual  friends,  —  attempts  which  she  had  supposed 
were  due  to  his  natural  proclivity  for  pretty  women, 
and  frustrated.  Now  it  occurred  to  her  suddenly  that 
he  might  not  be  as  completely  finished  with  as  she  had 
fancied.  Perhaps  he  had  never  really  understood  the 
finality  of  her  attitude  !  She  kept  her  eyes  studiously 
away  from  him,  and  entrenched  herself  among  her 
guests,  up  to  the  moment  when  Blanche  came  to  say 
good-bye  previous  to  departing  for  Durban. 

"  Come  and  see  us  as  soon  as  we  get  home,"  she 
said  to  Madge  with  cordial  affection  and  much  frank- 
ness. "  I  expect  I  shall  be  nearly  dead  of  wanting 
some  one  to  speak  to  ! " 

"  Oh,  Blanche  !  and  you  are  not  two  hours  married  ! 
Do  allow  Anthony  a  fair  trial ! " 

"  I  've  been  married  before,  my  dear.  As  to  An- 
thony— "  She  shrugged  her  shoulders  amusedly. 
"  Good-bye.  It  is  really  a  relief  to  get  away  from  all 
these  people.  My  face  is  stiff  with  smiling ! " 

Margery  laughed  outright.  She  kissed  her  new  sister- 
in-law,  and  followed  her  down  to  the  carriage,  admiring 


344  The  Story  of  Eden 

the  fit  of  her  gown  and  the  undeniable,  material  beauty 
of  her  face  and  figure.  The  Professor  was  fussing  over 
a  carriage  rug,  and  Blanche  stood  in  a  gleam  of  sunshine 
for  a  minute,  a  living  picture  worth  looking  at  by  the 
guests  crowding  round  her.  She  had  chosen  a  very 
light  shade  of  grey  as  her  wedding  gown,  and  the  pic- 
ture hat  on  her  unnaturally  red  hair  was  the  same  shade. 
She  was  big,  luscious,  unashamedly  redundant  of  animal 
life,  and  the  obvious  value  of  her  flesh  and  blood  lent  a 
miserly  suggestion  to  her  husband's  narrow  face  and 
hungry  eyes.  Mrs.  Drysdale  was  one  of  the  nearest  to 
the  carriage,  and  she  turned  to  Beau  Livingston  in  open 
wonder. 

"  The  more  I  look  at  them,  the  more  I  marvel ! "  she 
said.  "  I  have  been  in  a  state  of  increasing  wonder  since 
I  first  heard  of  the  engagement.  From  an  intellectual 
point  of  view,  I  should  have  thought  them  mostunsuited." 

"  Why  discuss  the  intellectual  point  of  view  ?  "  said 
Beau,  blandly.  "  He  is  marrying  her  for  very  fleshly 
reasons,  and  the  uncomfortable  certainty  in  his  brain 
that  it  is  being  overruled  by  —  er  —  her  finger  nails,  is 
a  consideration  for  the  future." 

"  But  who  would  have  thought  he  was  that  sort  of 
man  ! " 

"  My  dear  good  soul,  do  not  speak  as  if  it  were  a 
type !  Mankind  is  universal,  not  divisional." 

"  When  you  use  long  words,  Beau,  I  always  know 
that  it  is  done  to  cloak  something  indecent.  I  sha'n't 
dissect  you,  however,  I  shall  go  and  talk  to  True  —  he 
leaves  a  clean  taste  in  my  mouth." 

They  strolled  off  in  different  directions  as  the  car- 
riage bowled  away  in  a  shower  of  confetti,  and  tiny  sil- 
ver horseshoes  which  Margery  and  Starling  had  been 
manufacturing  for  weeks  past,  with  Truman's  help,  out 
of  lead  paper.  Margery  also  turned  from  the  gate,  and 
came  face  to  face  with  Vibart.  He  had  probably  been 
looking  at  the  bride,  for  the  expression  she  called  there 


The  Story  of  Eden  345 

had  hardly  faded  from  his  eyes.  Madge  passed  him 
abruptly,  with  such  scant  courtesy  that  she  nearly  fell 
into  Mrs.  Naseby's  arms. 

"  Come  round  the  garden,  Mrs.  Naseby,"  she  said, 
taking  that  lady  firmly  by  the  arm.  "  I  want  to  show 
you  our  last  roses.  They  are  not  all  over  yet."  As 
they  made  their  way  up  and  down  the  terraces,  she 
added,  "  Well,  how  do  you  think  it  has  gone  off?  "  with 
intent  to  leave  her  companion  no  time  to  think,  or 
realise  the  abruptness  of  her  former  movement. 

"  Oh,  very  well,  indeed,  my  dear !  A  pity  that  there 
was  n't  more  sun,  was  n't  it?  " 

"  Yes,  the  only  advantage  of  the  winter  is  that  it  gives 
us  a  chance  to  air  our  furs,  and  furs  are  so  becoming  ! 
Does  n't  Polly  Harbord  look  well !  " 

*'  Very  well,  indeed.  Ah !  that  reminds  me  !  —  is  it 
true  that  she  is  to  marry  Dr.  Langdon?" 

"  Good  gracious,  I  don't  think  so ! "  said  Madge, 
laughing.  "  She  has  n't  said  a  word  to  me,  and  I  am 
sure  she  would  have  told  me." 

"  Oh,  well,  I  'm  glad  to  hear  it,  for  he  has  n't  a  very 
satisfactory  reputation,  has  he?  It  was  their  being 
about  together  so  much  gave  rise  to  the  report,  I  dare- 
say. I  must  say  I  think  she  is  rather  careless.  I  heard 
that  they  had  been  met  in  the  train  together  at  eleven 
o'clock  at  night,  coming  out  from  Cape  Town.  Rather 
queer,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  I  'm  sure  it  can't  be  true,"  said  Madge,  warmly. 
"  Though  they  are  very  old  friends.  You  see  he  is  so 
often  attending  Mrs.  Wrighton.  By  the  way,  Mrs. 
Naseby,  who  are  these  people  who  are  living  next  door  ? 
Polly  says  she  can't  think." 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  he  is  a  retired  tradesman  from  some 
horrible  little  place  Up  Country  !  One  can't  possibly 
know  them  !  They  Ve  settled  here  hoping  to  get  taken 
up,  I  suppose,  and  thinking  that  no  one  would  know. 
If  he  had  come  from  Cape  Town,  he  wouldn't  have 


346  The  Story  of  Eden 

attempted  it.  And  she  was  a  barmaid,  and  they  say  she 
has  another  husband  in  Natal !  I  really  don't  know 
who  won't  settle  here  next,  and  pretend  to  be  all  right. 
Who  do  you  think  I  saw  driving  the  other  day?" 

"  I  don't  know."  Madge  was  really  amused,  and 
was  beginning  to  laugh. 

"  Why,  that  disreputable  nurse  of  Mrs.  Stratton's 
whom  she  had  to  dismiss  two  years  ago  for  carrying  on 
with  Mr.  Livingston.  I  'm  really  sorry  for  Mrs.  Strat- 
ton.  She  shipped  the  woman  Home,  hoping  to  get  rid 
of  her,  for  the  story  was  none  too  creditable.  And  now 
she  's  come  back,  —  married,  too,  I  hear,  to  a  wealthy 
Jew,  —  and  is  going  to  live  hereabouts,  I  suppose." 

Caroline  !  The  memory  of  the  woman's  comely  self- 
contained  face  rose  up  before  Madge's  mind  with  the 
words,  "  Mrs.  Stratton's  nurse."  It  was  Mrs.  Naseby, 
she  recollected,  who,  two  years  ago  at  Mrs.  Wrighton's 
first  tennis  party,  gave  her  the  clue  to  the  identity  of 
her  companion  at  Hout's  Bay.  She  knew  it  was  the 
same.  Caroline  —  here  !  risen  up  out  of  her  past  into 
her  present,  to  confront  her  with  a  more  deadly  fear 
than  Vibart's  return  or  the  gossip  of  the  neighbourhood. 
Of  all  her  reasons  for  dread,  evoked  by  her  gradual 
realisation  that  her  secret  might  leak  out,  the  possibility 
of  the  one  witness  who  could  condemn  her  reappearing 
on  her  horizon,  had  been  the  least  present  to  Margery's 
mind.  Somehow,  the  woman  once  out  of  Africa,  she 
had  taken  it  for  granted  that  they  would  never  come 
face  to  face  again,  —  a  groundless  supposition,  she  could 
see  at  once,  for  the  world  is  too  small  for  one  human 
being  to  escape  from  another  out  of  all  its  millions, 
once  there  arises  a  particular  reason  for  such  an  escape. 
Yet  she  had  blindly  regarded  herself  as  safe  at  this 
point,  and,  behold,  her  foe  had  already  entered  in  so  far 
that  the  keys  of  the  fortress  seemed  to  be  hers  no 
longer !  Why  was  Caroline  here  ?  Was  there  a  menace 
in  her  return?  For  her  own  sake  the  woman  would 


The  Story  of  Eden  347 

have  surely  avoided  a  neighbourhood  where  it  seemed 
she  had  been  notorious,  even  though  she  had  the  new 
protection  of  her  married  name.  It  was  with  diffi- 
culty that  Madge  detached  herself  sufficiently  from  the 
problem  to  answer  Mrs.  Naseby's  remarks  with  any  de- 
gree of  understanding,  and  she  hailed  the  announcement 
of  that  lady's  cart  and  her  subsequent  departure  with 
relief. 

"  Does  Jack  know  ?  Shall  I  warn  him  ?  "  she  thought 
suddenly,  struck  by  a  new  idea.  "  Perhaps  he  holds 
some  power  over  the  woman,  —  he  could  give  me  a 
counter  threat  of  exposure  to  meet  her  with,  if —  if  she 
—  attacks  me  ! " 

She  looked  round  her  anxiously.  The  guests  were 
thinning,  but  there  were  still  too  many  eyes  to  note  it,  if 
she  dared  to  attempt  a  confidential  conversation  with 
Vibart.  Beaumont  Livingston  and  Johnnie  Dodd  were 
discussing  the  interminable  Political  Situation  with  no 
suggestion  of  leave-taking  in  their  half-filled  tumblers  of 
whisky  and  soda.  As  Madge  approached  them  (she 
interrupted  ruthlessly  with  a  hope  that  once  disturbed 
they  might  go),  she  heard  Mr.  Johnnie  say,  "  My  only 
fear  is  that  they  won't  fight.  If  they  arbitrate  and 
come  to  terms,  we  shall  be  in  a  worse  plight  than 
ever." 

"  Do  you  want  us  to  fight,  Mr.  Johnnie  ?  "  Madge 
said,  pausing  beside  him  and  Livingston.  uNow,  Beau, 
don't  tell  me  that  your  friend  shot  the  tiger  in  the 
jungle,  because  I  heard  all  that  preceding  speech,  so 
it 's  no  use." 

"  My  dear  Madge,  you  are  welcome  to  the  whole  of 
Johnnie's  tirade,  without  interpolation  of  wild  beasts. 
He  is  quite  harmless !  He  only  wants  the  whole  of 
Africa  ceded  to  Great  Britain,  Rhodes  as  Viceroy,  and 
Johannesburg  as  the  capital.  His  own  incidental  advan- 
tages would  develop  themselves.  I  should  take  Olive 
Schreiner  for  my  share !  " 


348  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  see  our  fellows  get  the  Franchise," 
said  Mr.  Johnnie,  good-humouredly.  "  I  Ve  lived  in  the 
Transvaal,  and  —  I  know.  Your  husband  has  given  us  a 
free  run  of  the  whisky,  Mrs.  Crofton  ;  do  you  approve  ?  " 

"  Of  course  she  approves,"  said  Beau,  lightly.  "  Empty 
bottles  are  the  proof  of  a  bridal  success.  The  more  she 
can  persuade  us  to  drink,  the  better  the  wedding  will 
have  gone  off.  Here  's  Vibart  trying  to  say  good-bye, 
without  half  doing  his  share  !  That 's  the  worse  of  being 
a  Lieu. -Colonel.  It  always  demoralises  men  —  they  are 
afraid  to  set  a  bad  example  !  " 

"  The  only  thing  worth  setting  in  your  philosophy !  " 
retorted  Vibart.  "  Good-bye,  Mrs.  Crofton.  I  con- 
gratulate you  on  the  way  everything  has  gone  off!  " 

"  Which  example  you  are  following  by  going  off  well 
on  your  own  account,"  said  Madge,  smiling,  as  she  held 
out  her  hand.  As  her  fingers  touched  his  a  wild  impulse 
seized  her  to  try  and  tell  him  —  would  it  be  safe  to 
attempt  the  double  conversation  which  they  had  so  often 
proved  successful?  No,  Beau  was  too  near,  and  his 
wits  were  too  quick  !  Unconsciously,  however,  her  hand 
closed  on  his  with  a  little  spasmodic  pressure,  in  her 
half-formed  intention.  He  answered  the  pressure  at 
once,  —  he  never  failed  to  do  that,  she  had  known  of 
old,  —  but  without  betraying  himself  even  by  a  look. 
Margery  drew  her  hand  away,  dismayed  at  herself.  She 
had  accomplished  nothing  beyond  making  him  think 
that  she  hesitated  on  the  brink  of  a  revival. 

Yet  the  necessity  for  immediate  action  remained.  At 
any  moment  she  might  have  to  face  disclosure ;  perhaps 
even  now  Caroline  was  setting  the  train  of  gunpowder 
alight  which  was  to  blow  her  carefully  erected  fortress 
of  respectability  sky  high.  She  tossed  feverishly  all 
night,  her  brain  distraught  with  plans,  and  when  the 
morning  brought  unexpected  business  for  Lanse  in  Cape 
Town,  she  almost  hailed  it  as  salvation.  At  all  events 
she  should  have  the  whole  day  to  consider  in,  if  not  to 


The  Story  of  Eden  349 

make  use  of  in  any  more  profitable  manner,  for  he  would 
not  be  home  until  seven  o'clock. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  leave  you  alone  all  day,"  he  said,  as 
he  set  off.  "  Will  you  go  round  and  see  Starling  ?  Don't 
mope  by  yourself,  dear." 

"  Yes,  perhaps  I  will,"  said  Madge,  restlessly.  "  I 
don't  know.  Good-bye,  Lanse,  —  sure  you  won't  be 
home  until  seven  ?  " 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  can't  possibly  —  I  may  be  later,  but 
I  '11  try  not  to  keep  dinner  waiting." 

She  watched  him  drive  away  with  a  busy  brain.  The 
simplest  plan  would  be  to  send  a  note  to  Camp  and  ask 
Vibart  to  come  in  to  tea,  —  a  summons  he  would  be 
ready  enough  to  answer  if  no  official  duty  intervened, 
particularly  after  her  unfortunate  hand-clasp  yesterday, 
she  thought !  But  there  were  several  objections.  In 
the  first  place,  she  did  not  want  to  write  to  him  asking 
him  to  come,  —  a  piece  of  evidence  against  herself  that 
she  had  grown  too  cautious  to  risk ;  nor  did  she  want  to- 
send  the  letter  to  Camp  by  hand,  as  she  must  do,  with  the 
certainty  of  its  appearing  in  the  rack  for  half  the  Mess  to 
see.  In  the  second  place,  she  was  afraid  of  an  interrup- 
tion ;  any  one  might  drop  in  at  tea-time,  and  not  only 
discover  Vibart  with  her,  but  prevent  her  speaking  to 
him  alone,  for  she  dared  not  give  instructions  to  her  ser- 
vants that  no  one  else  was  to  be  admitted.  Thirdly,  — 
this  was  a  mere  sentiment,  but  strong  in  a  feminine  mind 
for  that  very  reason,  —  she  hated  the  thought  of  receiv- 
ing him  under  her  husband's  roof,  and  especially  in 
Lanse's  absence.  She  wondered  what  Vibart  was  doing 
to-day,  —  if  it  would  be  possible  to  meet  him  by  chance, 
driving  or  riding,  and  speak  to  him  then  and  there. 
She  had  no  certainty  even  that  he  was  in  Camp,  or  was 
not  engaged  by  some  social  duty.  She  had  not 
heard  him  say  the  day  before,  having  avoided  him  as 
much  as  possible. 

Still  cogitating,  she  wandered  out  among  her  flowers, 


350  The  Story  of  Eden 

in  the  winter  sunshine.  It  was  a  cold  July  day,  but  the 
sky  was  clear.  Madge  walked  from  terrace  to  terrace, 
and  was  near  the  boundary  of  the  plumbago  hedge,  when 
she  heard  some  one  hail  her. 

It  was  True.  He  was  standing  in  the  deep  red  road, 
some  feet  below  her,  by  his  bicycle,  having  evidently 
just  dismounted.  He  was  smiling,  and  his  big  eyes 
looked  like  a  dark  bar  across  his  face  at  that  distance, 
for  the  sun  was  behind  him. 

"  Good-morning,  Lady  ! "  he  said.  "  I  met  Crofton 
driving  to  the  Station." 

"Yes,  I  'm  all  alone.  Come  in  for  a  minute,  True, — 
no,  I'll  come  to  the  gate."  She  ran  down  the  wide 
moss-grown  steps  and  shook  hands.  "  Lansing  is  going 
to  be  in  Cape, Town  all  day,"  she  said.  "He  can't 
get  back  till  dinner-time.  I  feel  like  a  lone,  lorn 
widow  ! " 

"  I  wish  I  could  come  and  keep  you  company,  but 
I  'm  on  duty  —  I  'm  going  to  Camp,"  True  said,  —  he 
was  in  uniform,  —  "  and  I  sha'n't  be  free  till  this  after- 
noon. I  suppose  that 's  too  late  ?  " 

"  It  is  rather.  I  think  I  shall  go  for  a  ride  immedi- 
ately after  lunch.  It  gets  dark  so  soon  now !  Anything 
on  to-day  in  particular  ?  " 

"  No,  only  the  usual  routine.  I  was  up  at  five  this 
morning,  with  musketry  practice !  " 

"  Poor  True,  how  hard  they  work  you !  Where  's 
Mr.  Forrester  ?  " 

"  He 's  Captain  for  the  week." 

"  How  he  must  hate  it !      And  —  the  Colonel?  " 

True  turned  his  head  and  looked  down  the  blue- 
bordered  road.  "  He  's  going  over  to  luncheon  on  one 
of  the  boats,  I  think,"  he  said  gently.  "The  Skate  has 
a  luncheon  party." 

"  Oh !  —  I  thought  I  heard  Polly  Harbord  say  he 
was  going  to  tea  at  Mrs.  Wrighton's,"  said  Madge, 
mendaciously. 


The  Story  of  Eden  351 

"  Yes,  he  is,  I  believe  —  there,  or  to  the  Jacksons'/' 
True  agreed. 

("  That  was  a  fluke  ! "  thought  Madge.  "  How  lucky 
I  suggested  it.")  "  He  will  have  to  ride  hard  to  get  out 
from  Simon's  Town  after  a  luncheon  party,  in  time  for 
tea  at  the  Jacksons' !  "  she  said  carelessly.  "  He  goes 
there  a  good  deal,  does  n't  he  ?  " 

"  I  believe  so." 

"  Mrs.  Jackson  is  a  pretty  woman!  " 

"Yes!" 

Madge  laughed  a  little  heart-whole  laugh  of  real 
amusement,  and  True  smiled  as  if  he  liked  the  sound. 
"  He  must  ride,"  she  remarked  idly.  "  He  would  take 
still  longer  if  he  came  by  train." 

"  He  '11  be  all  right  if  he  starts  about  three,"  said 
True.  The  gravity  that  was  almost  like  a  cloud  on  his 
sunny  face  had  disappeared  with  Madge's  tribute  to 
Mrs.  Jackson's  good  looks.  It  was  quite  genuine,  and 
he  knew  it.  "  Good-bye,  Lady  !  I  suppose  you  can't 
hear  our  band  practising  from  here  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  think  so.  No,  of  course  not  —  all  out 
at  Simon's  Town !  How  can  you  ask  such  a  silly 
question  ? " 

"  I  thought  they  might  be  playing  the  National 
Anthem,"  said  True,  innocently.  "  I  somehow  felt  as  if 
they  were." 

"  Oh !  —  no,  not  the  Queen  to-day,  True  !  "  Madge 
said  laughing,  and  drawing  her  hand  away.  She  watched 
him  out  of  sight  rather  thoughtfully,  and  turned  to  the 
house  with  a  sigh. 

The  hours  droned  on,  keeping  pace  with  the  indeci- 
sion of  her  mind.  Should  she  go  and  meet  him  ?  After 
all,  no  one  could  prove  that  she  had  ridden  that  way 
with  that  intent.  It  was  a  high  road,  and  free  to  any 
one.  But  should  she  not?  Then  she  would  meet 
Lanse  with  a  freer  conscience,  but  the  danger  would  be 
as  formidable  as  ever. 


352  The  Story  of  Eden 

At  last  —  it  was  after  luncheon  —  she  ordered  her 
pony  with  a  kind  of  desperate  impatience,  and  went  up 
to  her  own  room  to  put  on  her  habit.  It  was  still  fair, 
and  the  lengthening  sunshine  was  warm  about  her  as  she 
mounted,  and  rode  out  of  the  stable  yard.  The  black 
groom  touched  his  forehead,  and  asked  —  curiously,  she 
thought  —  if  he  should  accompany  her.  "  Oh,  no,  that 
is  not  necessary,  Henry,"  she  said  carelessly.  "  Be  sure 
and  take  the  cart  down  to  the  Station  to  meet  your 
master ;  you  had  better  start  about  half-past  six  —  but  I 
shall  be  back  before  then."  Did  the  man  look  after  her 
with  any  meaning  in  his  stupid  dusky  face,  or  was  it  her 
fancy?  She  rode  away  from  the  old  grey  house  in  its 
tangle  of  vegetation,  through  the  crisp  sunshine  of  the 
winter  afternoon,  southwards. 

Truman's  duties  had  been  somewhat  heavy  that 
morning,  and  he  sat  down  to  his  luncheon  with  a  sigh  of 
physical  satisfaction.  The  old  farmhouse  which  had 
been  lent  to  the  Mess  boasted  a  long  front  room  beamed 
and  tiled  in  the  true  Dutch  fashion,  and  which  formed  a 
picturesque  background  when  the  Officers  blossomed 
out  into  red  and  gold  at  dinner-time.  True  looked 
round  him  appreciatively,  stretched  his  limbs  in  his  work- 
a-day  khaki,  and  noticed  that  so  many  of  his  seniors 
had  warned  off  that  he  would  have  to  take  the  head  of 
the  table  at  Mess  that  night.  Then  he  listened  to  a  little 
story  with  which  Mowbray  was  brimming  over,  concern- 
ing a  certain  fat  lady  who,  during  a  call  at  Government 
House,  had  cracked  a  chair  with  her  weight,  and  the 
Lady  who  was  receiving,  and  the  Governor,  and  the 
Military  Secretary,  had  all  rushed  pell-mell  to  the  rescue, 
as  if  it  were  a  football  scramble  and  the  stout  lady  the 
ball.  It  was  told  without  malice,  after  the  broad  lines 
of  Mowbray's  nature,  and  True  laughed.  After  lunch 
he  went  off  to  his  quarters,  congratulating  himself  that  he 
could  get  some  sleep,  for  he  had  been  up  at  five  as  he 
had  told  Madge.  He  had  been  resting  most  beautifully 


The  Story  of  Eden  353 

for  about  half  an  hour,  when  his  servant  roused  him 
with  the  information  that  Major  Yeats  had  asked  for 
him. 

True  swore  softly.  "  He  might  have  let  a  poor  devil 
get  a  little  rest !  "  he  said  pathetically.  "  Did  you  say 
I  was  asleep,  Stone  ?  " 

"  Yesser.  Major  Yeats  asked  if  'e  could  come  in  'ere, 
Sir." 

"  Yes,  ask  him  if  he  will  —  it  will  save  my  getting  up 
for  another  minute  or  so  at  least,"  said  True,  yawning. 
He  glanced  round  the  room  apologetically  as  the  Major 
entered,  for  he  knew  that  his  special  failing  was  extreme 
disorder  among  his  belongings. 

"Awf'ly  sorry  to  receive  you  like  this,  Major,"  he 
said.  "  Have  a  cigar,  won't  you  ?  Lights  on  the  table." 

"  All  right,  True.  Don't  get  up.  Have  they  put  you 
onto  musketry  practice  ?  " 

"  Yes,  worse  luck  !  Half-past  four  to  turn  out  every 
morning.  Well,  any  news?" 

"  Not  particularly.  It 's  rather  dull  in  Town."  Yeats 
was  with  the  Garrison  Artillery.  "  I  came  over  to  call 
on  the  Admiral,  and  as  I  was  early  I  thought  I  'd  look 
you  up." 

As  the  lack  of  consideration  for  a  fellow-soldier 
docked  of  his  rightful  hours  of  sleep  was  unprecedented 
from  his  guest,  True  simply  lay  and  stared  at  him  with 
all  his  eyes.  Yeats  would  never  have  had  him  roused  up 
in  such  an  inhuman  fashion  just  to  pass  the  time  before 
he  went  to  Admiralty  House.  True  waited,  trying  to 
read  the  lined  rugged  face,  and  the  shrewd  eyes  that 
betrayed  nothing,  and  noted  in  an  idle  fashion  that 
Yeats  was  growing  very  grey  about  the  temples,  and 
that  the  eyeglass  which  was  reported  to  never  leave  his 
eye  seemed  to  have  drawn  a  perfect  network  of  wrinkles 
about  it. 

"  I  met  Crofton  coming  out  from  town,"  said  Yeats, 
meditatively,  as  he  blew  a  cloud  of  smoke. 
23 


354  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  Crofton  !  I  thought  he  was  in  all  day.  Mrs.  Crof- 
ton  told  me  so.  I  saw  her  this  morning." 

"  Ah !  He  told  me  he  finished  up  business  un- 
expectedly. Glad  to  get  home  and  not  leave  his  wife 
alone  all  day,  I  suppose."  (There  was  a  troubled 
pause.  "  And  where  is  —  the  Colonel  ?  "  said  Madge's 
voice  in  True's  brain.)  "  Crofton 's  a  good  sort  of  fel- 
low, but  rather  inclined  to  suspect  every  man  who  looks 
at  his  wife,  I  fancy,"  said  Yeats.  "  I  wonder  he  does  n't 
take  her  Home  for  a  time.  She  is  rather  over-popular 
here  perhaps.  I  should  think  a  year  or  so,  to  shake 
down,  would  be  good  for  them  both.  There  would 
be  less  chance  of  some  stupid  rupture  between  them 
then." 

("  He  '11  have  to  ride  hard  to  get  out  from  Simon's 
Town  after  a  luncheon  party,  in  time  for  tea  at  the  Jack- 
sons'  !  "  said  Madge's  voice.  "  And  he  must  ride.  He 
would  take  still  longer  if  he  came  by  train." 

"  He  '11  be  all  right  if  he  starts  about  three,"  answered 
True's  in  his  own  memory.  He  involuntarily  glanced 
at  the  clock.) 

"  I  saw  Mrs.  Crofton  on  the  way  here,"  said  Yeats, 
slowly.  "  I  suppose  she  thought  she  'd  have  a  ride  to 
pass  the  time.  I  wanted  to  speak  to  her  and  tell  her 
her  husband  would  be  home  first,  but  she  would  n't  stop. 
She  turned  off  by  a  side  road,  and  I  lost  her." 

He  turned  round  and  looked  at  True. 

"  I  should  n't  wonder  if  Crofton  rode  out  to  meet  her 
—  it  gets  dusk  early,  and  he  would  be  sure  to  get  ner- 
vous, as  she  had  no  groom,"  he  remarked. 

"Yes,"  said  True,  vaguely.  He  got  off  the  bed  and 
began  mechanically  getting  into  his  riding  things. 

"  I  saw  your  Colonel's  horse  waiting  before  the  Mess. 
Is  he  going  towards  Wynberg?" 

"Yes  —  " 

"He  knows  all  the  short  cuts  and  side  paths,  of 
course  ?  " 


The  Story  of  Eden  355 

"  Yes  —  Had  he  started  when  you  came  in  here  ? 
He  has  been  lunching  on  the  Skate" 

"No,  I  don't  think  he  had  come  back." 

"  I  '11  see  what  I  can  do,"  said  True,  simply. 

"  It  would  be  a  pity  if  there  were  a  misunderstanding 
which  might  be  avoided,"  said  Yeats,  slowly.  "  I  would 
have  followed  her,  but  I  could  hardly  say  anything. 
You  know  her  so  much  better  than  I  do." 

"  Yes,"  said  True,  again.  "  Yeats,  go  and  order  my 
pony  for  me,  will  you  ?  " 

The  older  man  got  up  with  a  quickness  his  lazy  atti- 
tude had  given  no  hint  of,  and  swung  out  of  the  room. 
Five  minutes  later  True  went  round  to  the  stables,  threw 
himself  into  the  saddle  without  a  word,  and  tore  out  of 
the  yard. 

He  did  not  know  yet  whether  or  no  he  was  too  late. 
Vibart  might  have  a  start  of  him,  for  he  had  not  stopped 
to  see.  Crofton  he  knew  had.  As  he  leaned  forward 
in  the  saddle,  and  the  Basuto  pony  galloped  down  the 
road,  he  was  hardly  conscious  of  his  own  tired  limbs,  or 
the  surprised  stare  of  the  few  Kaffirs  whom  he  passed  — 
he  was  only  conscious  of  the  hopelessness  of  it  all. 
The  houses  swung  past  him,  and  the  sudden  dark  de- 
scending made  the  road  dangerous,  but  he  never  slack- 
ened the  pace.  It  struck  him  as  a  strange  thing  that  he 
was  doing,  —  a  thing  that  could  never  have  taken  place 
at  Home,  —  racing  along  this  queer  foreign  road,  which 
looked  so  weirdly  unfamiliar  in  the  growing  darkness,  to 
do  —  he  knew  not  what.  Even  what  he  was  going  to 
say,  did  he  succeed  in  reaching  her  first,  was  a  vague 
uncertainty  that  troubled  his  brain ;  his  pony's  hoofs 
beat  it  out  on  the  smooth  road,  "  What  will  you  say  ? 
How  can  you  say  anything?" 

"  After  all  I  may  be  going  on  a  fool's  errand  —  or  if 
I  meet  her  I  may  only  make  her  angry,"  he  thought 
rather  miserably.  The  ride  wearied  him  ;  there  was  no 
pleasure  even  in  the  steady  swing  of  the  onward  pace  \ 


356  The  Story  of  Eden 

he  felt  as  if  the  soreness  of  his  heart  made  his  limbs  ache 
also.  Kalk  Bay  —  St.  James  —  Mizenburg  at  last,  the 
road  branching  off  inland  from  the  sea,  the  last  light  glim- 
mering on  the  broad  surface  of  the  Vleis  as  he  swerved 
round  them  away  from  the  railway,  —  he  rode  slower 
now,  looking  about  him  as  if  he  half  hoped,  half  feared 
to  find  what  he  came  to  seek.  Between  Diep  River 
and  Plumpstead  he  thought  he  heard,  far  along  the  soli- 
tary road  behind  him,  the  sound  of  another  horse's 
hoofs.  The  rider  had  not  come  at  a  pace  equal  to  his 
own,  but  he  also  was  in  a  hurry,  unconscious  though  he 
might  be.  ...  True's  eyes  peered  round  him  in  the  dark- 
ness ;  to  his  right  there  was  nothing  but  a  dark  planta- 
tion of  trees,  to  the  left  a  small  by-path  wound  into 
another  plantation,  and  under  the  dark  branches  some- 
thing moved,  some  yards  away.  He  wheeled  short,  for 
he  could  not  afford  to  waste  time,  and  rode  close  to  it 
before  either  of  them  could  see  the  other. 

"  Jack  ! "  said  a  voice  out  of  the  darkness.  True 
recognised  the  terse  excitement  and  uncertainty  of  the 
tone,  which  had  the  quality  of  a  violin-string  strung  to 
breaking  pitch. 

There  was  no  time  to  think  now  what  he  should  say. 
His  own  overwrought  senses  caught  the  sound  of  those 
approaching  hoofs.  "  Mrs.  Crofton,"  he  said  breath- 
lessly, and  without  waiting  to  choose  words,  "Turn 
round  and  go  home — quickly  !  Your  husband  came  out 
from  town  an  hour  ago  —  he  may  come  to  meet  you." 

"  True  !  "  The  startled  voice  had  a  new  note  of  dis- 
may. "What  do  you  —  mean?"  Madge  said,  and  he 
felt  that  she  gathered  up  her  reins  to  take  to  flight. 

"  Don't  ask  me  —  don't  stay  and  talk  —  go  !  Ride 
hard!"  he  commanded  tersely.  "The  Tracker  is  just 
behind  us  —  he  had  better  not  see  you  —  he  might 
guess  what  you  came  for.  Ride  on  straight  —  I  '11  turn 
and  stop  him,  and  keep  him  talking  for  a  few  minutes 
to  give  you  a  start." 


The  Story  of  Eden  357 

She  had  ridden  out  of  the  shelter  of  the  trees  before 
he  finished  speaking,  and  for  a  moment  he  caught  a 
glimpse  of  her  stricken  white  face.  Then  he  heard  her 
horse  begin  to  trot,  —  change  from  a  trot  to  a  canter  — 
faster  —  faster  still  —  and  the  galloping  hoofs  died  into 
distance.  True  turned  his  panting,  dripping  pony  and 
rode  back  along  the  road  by  which  he  came. 

The  rapid  twilight  darkens  all  the  land  about  five  in 
July.  Out  of  the  darkness,  into  the  electric  light  of  his 
own  road,  came  a  blurred  figure  —  a  double  figure, 
human  and  animal,  and  Crofton  pulled  up  his  horse  and 
exclaimed  with  relief. 

"  Madge  !  I  was  just  setting  out  to  meet  you.  My 
dear  child,  you  should  n't  ride  alone  so  late  !  They  told 
me  you  had  gone  towards  Plumpstead." 

"It  is  barely  five,  Lanse,  only  it  gets  dark  so  early 
now.  But  I  'in  sorry  I  was  out  when  you  came  in ;  I 
thought  I  had  plenty  of  time  for  a  ride,  and  there 
was  nothing  else  to  do.  How  was  it  you  got  out  so 
early?" 

"  Oh,  I  could  n't  see  one  man,  and  soon  squared 
another.  Your  voice  sounds  tired,  Sweetheart.  I  hope 
you  did  n't  overdo  it !  " 

"  Oh,  no  —  it  was  a  lovely  day  for  a  ride  —  I  only 
want  my  tea." 

She  almost  dreaded  going  into  the  lighted  hall,  and 
surreptitiously  rubbed  her  cheeks  while  he  dismounted. 
But  though  she  might  get  the  colour  back  she  could  not 
drive  the  stricken  look  from  her  eyes  or  the  hopeless 
droop  from  her  lips.  As  she  stood  by  the  tea-table  eat- 
ing her  tea,  and  trying  to  talk  as  usual,  she  was  strug- 
gling with  the  consciousness  of  a  great  shame.  True 
knew !  —  he  guessed,  —  something.  Though  he  could 
not  know  the  reason  of  her  wish  to  meet  Vibart,  and 
probably  misjudged  her  in  that  particular,  he  knew,  and 
she  could  not  deny,  the  damning  fact  that  she  did 
want  to  meet  him  —  that  she  had  calculated  on  her  hus- 


358  The  Story  of  Eden 

band's  absence,  and  ridden  out  to  waylay  him.  And 
True  had  come  to  warn  her,  having  heard  —  she  won- 
dered how  —  that  Lanse  was  coming  home  and  might 
ride  to  meet  her  and  discover  her  with  Vibart. 

"  Did  you  meet  any  one  you  knew,  Lanse  ?  "  she  said, 
with  a  puzzled  feeling  that  she  must  discover  how  he 
had  encountered  True. 

"  I  met  Yeats  in  the  train  —  he  went  on  to  Simon's 
Town.  Then  I  stopped  at  the  Drysdales  on  the  way 
up,  and  then  I  came  home  to  find  you  riding  in  the 
darkness  unprotected  !  That 's  what  comes  of  leaving 
one's  wife  for  the  day !  "  He  laughed  and  put  his  arm 
round  her,  pleased  to  be  back  early  and  to  have  found 
her  safe  at  hand  after  all.  "  You  must  n't  go  out  with- 
out Henry  another  time,  Madge.  I  don't  like  these 
roads  for  women  after  dark,  even  on  horseback." 

Major  Yeats  also !  —  so  the  thought  wound  in  and 
out  of  Margery's  brain,  even  while  she  smiled  apologeti- 
cally and  said  she  would  do  as  he  wished.  Did  every 
one  —  the  whole  world  —  know  ?  Mowbray's  warnings 
and  the  shock  she  had  received  from  them  were  as 
nothing  to  this.  The  unvarnished  horror  of  True's 
words  came  back  to  her  and  struck  her  like  a  blow. 
He  had  had  no  time  to  soften  them,  and  she  felt  in  her 
humiliation  that  she  had  proved  their  truth  by  accepting 
them  in  the  stress  of  the  moment  without  a  protest. 
"  The  Tracker  is  just  behind  us  —  he  had  better  not  see 
you  —  he  might  guess  what  you  came  for!"  But  how 
could  she  protest  ?  What  was  there  to  protest  against  — 
save  that  he  told  her  the  bare,  ugly  truth  ?  In  the  bitter- 
ness of  her  heart  she  realised  that  the  thing  that  she  had 
thrust  into  the  background  —  the  irradicable  thing  that 
she  had  thought  she  could  put  on  one  side,  and  be 
happy  in  spite  of  it,  —  cropped  up  everywhere  to  mark 
and  shame  her.  It  was  spoiling  all  her  married  life, 
even  though  she  succeeded  in  hiding  it  from  her  hus- 
band. It  was  lowering  her  in  her  friends'  opinion  — 


The  Story  of  Eden  359 

for  what  could  True  really  think  of  her?  —  it  was  Nem- 
esis, perpetually  stalking  at  her  side  and  darkening  the 
sunshine,  and  spreading  nets  for  her  feet,  until  she  grew 
tired  of  struggling  against  it.  Throughout  the  evening 
her  thoughts  kept  wilfully  straying  to  Simon's  Town, 
and  to  True,  and  trying  vainly  to  reconstruct  his  atti- 
tude with  regard  to  her.  How  long  had  he  suspected? 
To-day  —  yesterday  —  a  month  ago  ?  Had  Major  Yeats 
been  the  one  to  suggest  it  to  him  ?  How  far  had  the 
story  spread  ?  It  was  perhaps  merciful  that  she  could 
not  know. 

Truman  took  the  head  of  the  table  that  night,  as  he 
had  foreseen  earlier  in  the  day.  Facing  him  down  the 
long  vista  of  regimental  plate,  and  between  the  red- 
shaded  candles,  he  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  Ransom's 
pink-and-white  face  and  little  yellow  moustache,  for  the 
Brawler  was  Vice,  and  away  on  each  side  stretched 
scarlet  jacket  against  scarlet  jacket  with  the  silver  Grey- 
hound of  the  Duke's  flashing  from  the  dark-blue  facings. 
The  careless  bronzed  faces  became  flushed  and  heated 
as  the  wine  went  round,  and  the  conversation  increased 
in  colour  and  allusion,  for  none  of  the  older  men  were 
present  to  act  as  a  restraint.  Suddenly  a  few  words 
sprang  out  of  the  general  hum  and  struck  on  Truman's 
ears.  They  were  spoken  in  a  lowered  tone  to  a  next- 
door  neighbour,  but  not  quite  so  carefully  as  if  the 
speaker  had  been  on  his  guard.  Truman  paused  delib- 
erately before  helping  himself  to  the  last  course,  in  order 
to  be  sure,  and  then  turned  to  identify  the  speaker, 
though  his  quick  ears  had  distinguished  the  voice.  It 
was  Forrester,  and  what  he  had  said  was,  "The  Cun- 
ningham girl  who  fooled  her  husband." 

The  man  to  whom  the  words  had  been  directed  was 
Scott  Murray,  the  Adjutant.  Both  he  and  Forrester 
had  been  frequent  visitors  at  Vine  Lodge  and  the 
Rosary,  and  Truman  knew  that  they  would  neither  of 
them  hesitate  an  instant  to  accept  any  hospitality  offered 


360  The  Story  of  Eden 

to  them  by  the  Croftons.  There  was  a  somewhat  raised 
discussion  over  the  last  gymkana  going  on  among  the 
other  Officers  which  hummed  safely  above  Forrester's 
words,  but  Truman  waited  with  sharpened  ears  for  the 
reply. 

"  The  Tracker  is  stalking  again,  but  it 's  an  old  prey. 
She  is  a  damned  little  fool !  " 

"  He  was  going  in  that  direction  to-day.  He  's  got  a 
new  dodge  and  pretends  that  it 's  the  Jackson  woman  — 
but  she  would  n't  look  at  him  !  He  really  went  to  the 
Rosary  of  course.  I  suppose  the  hubby  was  safely 
packed  off  to  town,  first  thing  this  morning  —  " 

"  The  Tracker  generally  hunts  by  night  rather  than  by 
day ! " 

Truman  had  finished  the  course,  and  leaned  back  in 
his  chair.  There  was  a  little  swing  of  his  shoulders  as 
he  settled  himself  into  his  uniform.  In  that  moment 
Henderson,  on  the  other  side  of  Forrester,  caught  the 
drift  of  the  conversation,  and  joined  in. 

"  She  was  at  Kenilworth  on  Saturday,"  he  said  with 
the  desire  of  a  very  young  man  to  appear  as  knowing 
in  the  vices  of  this  world  as  his  seniors.  "And  the 
Tracker  was  trying  to  hang  round  their  cart  with  that 
loathly  leer  of  his.  Crofton  seems  to  be  as  blind  as  a 
bat  —  unless  it 's  intentional." 

"  A  happy  house-party,  perhaps  —  " 

Murray  broke  off  short.  He  had  spoken  with  a 
laugh,  and  without  the  guard  of  Forrester's  lowered 
tones,  and  his  Captain  was  resting  one  hand  on  the  table 
and  leaning  forward,  so  that  their  eyes  met. 

"  Mr.  Murray,"  said  Truman,  with  the  quick  distinct 
utterance  which  went  down  the  whole  table.  "  May  I 
remind  you  that  it  is  not  etiquette  to  mention  ladies  at 
Mess." 

The  words  carried.  Men  at  the  further  end  ceased 
their  conversation  and  looked  up,  conscious  that  some- 
thing was  going  on.  The  long  mess-table  was  for  the 


The  Story  of  Eden  361 

moment  as  immovable  as  a  picture,  —  the  Subalterns 
turning  in  their  chairs  with  puzzled  or  eager  faces  to 
look  at  the  two  principal  figures,  —  Murray,  wine-flushed 
and  with  the  courage  of  his  dinner  in  him,  glaring  at  his 
senior.  But  there  was  a  look  on  Truman's  face  which 
made  the  Adjutant's  insolence  waver.  He  was  a  fat 
young  man  with  protruding  eyes,  and  his  skin  went  a 
dull  crimson  as  he  faced  Truman's  steady  gaze. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Captain  Truman,"  he  said  stiffly, 
and  turning  to  Forrester  he  launched  into  less  dangerous 
subjects.  True's  eyes  left  the  two  as  though  he  had 
never  seen  them,  and  rested  absently  on  a  piece  of  plate 
in  front  of  him.  It  represented  two  wild  beasts  under  a 
palm-tree  tearing  each  other  savagely,  and,  like  all 
pieces  of  presentation  plate  in  messes,  it  was  of  no 
earthly  use,  and  too  cumbersome  to  be  ornamental. 
But  the  beasts  were  finely  moulded,  and  the  cruelty  of 
slaughter  was  rather  cleverly  conveyed  in  their  attitudes  ; 
the  lion  was  down,  turning  helplessly  to  snap  and  snarl 
at  the  victorious  tiger,  who  was  tearing  him.  Something 
in  the  beast's  evil,  savage  face  put  Truman  in  mind  of 
his  Colonel.  The  hideous  likeness  seemed  to  start  out 
of  the  mess-plate  as  he  looked  at  it,  and  he  stared  at  the 
silver  tiger  in  troubled  fascination.  It  was  a  fanciful 
notion,  but  did  not  Jack  Vibart  tear  his  prey  in  something 
the  same  fashion  ?  Was  there  no  beast  of  prey  lurking 
in  that  handsome  human  exterior?  Truman,  though 
he  did  not  speak  of  it  openly  as  some  of  his  brother 
Officers,  had  no  less  knowledge  of  the  Tracker's 
rapacity. 

"  If  she  could  only  be  stopped  in  time,"  thought  the 
little  fellow  rapidly  —  his  mind  worked  in  the  quick  deft 
fashion  of  his  speech.  u  If  I  could  only  warn  her  !  — 
there  does  n't  seem  to  be  any  one  else  to  do  it  — and  I 
hardly  know  how  to,  without  making  her  angry  with  me. 
Not  that  I  should  mind  that  so  much,  if  it  did  any 
good." 


362  The  Story  of  Eden 

He  rose  mechanically,  for  the  band  had  risen  too  and 
were  singing  in  mighty  harmony  "  God  save  the 
Queen  ! "  This  was  a  custom  in  the  Duke's,  many  of 
whose  bandsmen  had  trained  voices,  and  preferred  to 
sing  the  national  anthem  after  Mess,  instead  of  playing 
it.  The  music  reminded  True  of  the  foolish  friendly 
little  joke  between  him  and  Madge,  and  he  almost 
groaned  as  he  remembered  the  incident  of  that  morning, 
and  her  mischievous,  innocent  eyes  as  she  drew  her  hand 
away  without  letting  him  kiss  it,  subject-wise.  "  Not 
the  Queen  to-day,  True,"  she  said.  He  wondered  if  she 
would  ever  look  at  him  again  quite  so,  after  his  breathless 
warning  of  the  afternoon,  and  the  terrible  plain  speak- 
ing to  which  he  had  been  driven.  Truman  had  come 
very  close  to  heartache  over  Margery's  sunny  person- 
ality, and  the  pussy-cat  ways  which  had  attracted  not 
only  Vibart,  but  Beau  Livingston  and  Barton  and  a 
host  of  others.  He  kept  his  wounds  to  himself,  and 
Madge  suspected  the  possibility  of  True  being  "  real," 
as  far  as  she  was  concerned,  as  little  as  she  would  have 
suspected  the  men  who  professed  to  be  her  friends 
bandying  her  name  about  at  Mess.  But  True  was  very 
fond  of  Madge  Crofton,  as  he  had  been  of  Madge  Cun- 
ningham, and  though  his  friendship  for  her  was  simply 
honest  liking  since  her  marriage,  he  still  kept  an  espe- 
cially warm  corner  of  his  heart  for  her  —  his  "  Lady,"  of 
whom  these  men  about  him  had  spoken  as  "  A  damned 
little  fool!" 

"  God  save  the  Queen !  "  rang  the  voices  of  the 
band. 

"  Amen  ! "  said  the  Captain,  loyally,  with  a  double 
application  of  the  words,  and  walked  off  to  his  quarters, 
neglecting  his  usual  resort  of  the  billiard  table,  which 
the  same  good  Samaritan  who  owned  the  old  farmhouse 
had  lent  to  the  Duke's,  and  round  which  the  younger 
men  had  speedily  congregated. 

"  What 's  up  with  True  ?   He 's  awfully  sick  to-night," 


The  Story  of  Eden  363 

Tennyson  said  as  he  chalked  his  cue.  "Your  play, 
Silence." 

Wright  cannoned  without  answering,  and  the  Brawler, 
who  was  marking,  took  it  upon  him  to  reply. 

"  True  is  coming  out  as  a  knight-errant  of  distressed 
damsels  —  who  are  no  better  than  they  should  be. 
Beauty  was  always  irresistible  to  him." 

"  True 's  a  deuced  good  sort,"  said  Silence,  shortly. 
He  was  one  of  the  senior  Subs,  and  when  he  did  open 
his  lips  he  did  not  fear  to  speak,  even  to  a  Captain. 
"A  good  many  of  our  seats  might  be  vacant  in  the 
Mess  without  any  one  caring  much  about  it  —  but  True 
would  make  a  big  gap." 

"  The  President  is  popular !  —  but  no  one  wants  to 
depreciate  True.  What  was  up  between  him  and 
Murray  to-night?  I  couldn't  hear  at  my  end  of  the 
table,  but  Mowbray  says  there  was  a  row,  and  told  me 
something  of  the  cause." 

"  It  was  Forrester's  fault.  He  was  talking  in  his  own 
sweet  little  style  about  a  woman,  —  a  mutual  acquaint- 
ance, but  we  need  n't  mention  names,  —  and  Murray 
added  some  of  his  own  delicate  opinions.  True  got 
rusty  for  once,  and  stopped  it." 

"  True  will  lose  his  popularity  if  he  interferes  with  the 
conversation  like  that  —  it's  almost  unheard  of,"  said 
Wright.  He  knew  many  things  in  his  quiet  way.  "  The 
Mess  takes  its  tone  from  the  Colonel.  Unless  the 
Tracker  goes,  reformation  is  hopeless." 

"And  Forrester  in  particular  is  such  an  everlasting 
copy  of  Vibart.  I  don't  believe  Hard  Lines  was  the 
most  to  blame  to-night." 

"  I  wish  the  Tracker  would  go,"  said  Tennyson, 
honestly.  "  His  escapades  are  a  disgrace  to  the  Mess. 
How  any  decent  woman  can  have  him  to  her  house,  if 
she  knows  him  —  but  then  she  does  n't." 

"  She  would  hardly  be  decent  if  she  did,"  remarked 
Wright,  dryly.  "  You  to  play,  Bard.  What  a  duffing 


364  The  Story  of  Eden 

stroke  !  —  we  want  True  here  to  preach  cannons  to  you 
—  wonder  why  he  does  n't  turn  up  to-night?  " 

The  Captain  of  B  Company  was  at  that  moment 
sitting  in  his  own  room,  among  a  pile  of  cushions,  in 
extreme  dejection.  Six  dogs  had  come  to  share  his 
solitude,  —  with  one  exception,  his  own  property,  —  and 
had  grouped  themselves  in  picturesque  attitudes  about 
him  and  his  arm-chair,  their  wet  noses  affectionately 
rubbing  portions  of  his  person  at  intervals.  But  True 
was  not  to  be  distracted  from  his  gloom  even  when 
Wags,  the  Irish  terrier,  did  his  best  to  tarnish  the  gold 
lace  on  his  master's  mess-jacket,  and  Miss  Anderson 
played  a  devil's  tattoo  on  the  smooth  cloth  of  his  knee 
with  the  sharpest  foot-claws  that  a  colley  bitch  ever  pos- 
sessed. True  ordered  them  off  absently,  and  continued 
his  mental  inspection  of  the  moral  atmosphere  of  AVyn- 
berg.  It  was  not  encouraging.  He  foresaw  Mrs. 
Naseby  and  her  associates  pulling  Madge's  reputation  to 
pieces  at  the  next  tennis,  if  the  story  grew  as  it  had 
done  since  Vibart's  return,  and  Beau  Livingston  telling 
witty  stories  at  the  Club  and  the  Vineyard.  He  dropped 
his  head  in  his  hands  and  sat  thinking  —  thinking  —  how 
Madge  might  best  be  spared.  The  efficiency  of  his  be- 
loved Company  had  never  received  deeper  thought  from 
him,  but  he  found  no  solution  of  the  problem,  which  was 
likely  to  grow  more  complicated  as  time  went  on,  unless 
by  a  happy  chance  the  Croftons  went  Home.  The 
story  might  be  forgotten  then,  and  the  Regiment  moved 
on  to  Natal.  It  was  a  floating  population,  and  by  the 
time  Madge  came  back  to  the  neighbourhood,  if  she 
ever  did,  there  might  not  be  a  tongue  left  to  wag  over 
her  name.  But  as  long  as  she  remained  in  Wynberg, 
the  danger  of  the  scandal  grew  and  grew.  There  was 
nothing  to  hope  from  Vibart — the  whole  affair  was 
miserable.  His  head  went  a  shade  lower,  and  the  dogs 
drew  closer  together  and  became  concerned.  True's 
attitude  suggested  trouble,  and  trouble  for  True  meant 


The  Story  of  Eden  365 

a  combination  among  the  dogs  against  some  person  or 
persons  unknown. 

"  What 's  up  ? "  said  the  Retriever,  in  amazement. 
"Is  it  Orderly  Room  or  mess-badgering?  He's  Presi- 
dent again,  but,  Lord !  it  can't  be  that  for  True." 

"  Colonel  or  Subs,  I  'm  willing  to  take  an  inch  out 
of  their  ankles  for  it ! "  snapped  Miss  Anderson,  the 
Colley. 

"  It 's  not  the  Curronel  —  it 's  a  woman  !  "  suggested 
the  Irish  dog,  with  a  wink. 

"  Well,  I  tell  you  this,"  said  the  wire-haired  Mongrel, 
"  if  Starling  has  been  playing  the  fool  with  him,  I  '11  snap 
at  her  th'e  very  next  biscuit  she  offers  me.  She  's  a  nice 
girl,  but  if  she  don't  appreciate  True,  she  must  be  learned. 
That 's  all." 

"  She  gave  me  a  chocolate  cream  the  last  time  I  was 
at  Friedenhof,"  said  the  Fox-terrier,  who  belonged  to 
Forrester.  "It  seems  a  pity — but  a  small  nip  soon 
heals,  and  she  '11  thank  us  some  day,  poor  girl  !  It 's  an 
unlooked-for  lack  of  taste  on  her  part,  though.  My 
master  says  —  " 

"Don't  you  talk  to  me  about  your  master,"  said  the 
Retriever,  with  a  growl.  "  He  kicked  me  on  the  sly  the 
other  day.  If  True  had  n't  called  me  to  heel  just  then, 
I  'd  have  seen  Mr.  Forrester  all  round  the  Camp  !  " 

The  sixth  dog  was  called  by  courtesy  a  rough-coated 
Japanese.  He  did  not  speak,  but  he  walked  up  to  True 
and  squatted  on  his  knee  before  his  owner  could  eject 
him,  which  had  the  effect  of  rousing  the  presumably  re- 
jected suitor  at  last. 

"  Confound  the  dogs  !  —  they  're  all  over  me.  I  shall 
get  rid  of  the  whole  lot,"  he  said,  a  threat  which  did  not 
disturb  any  of  his  canine  friends  who  knew  its  worth. 
"  There  's  nothing  to  be  done.  Poor  little  Madge  !  " 

Her  photo  smiled  at  him  from  the  looking-glass  where 
he  had  tucked  it  into  the  wood  frame,  and  he  smiled 
back  with  a  gravity  in  his  eyes  which  Madge  would 


366  The  Story  of  Eden 

hardly  have  recognised.  He  was  very  tired,  both  with 
his  early  duties  and  the  long  day,  his  afternoon  ride  and 
his  own  thoughts.  With  a  despondency  and  weariness 
very  unlike  him,  he  undressed  and  went  to  bed,  most  of 
the  dogs  disposing  themselves  on  his  feet  or  about  the 
room.  Some  reflection  of  his  mood  must  have  reached 
the  sensitive  minds  of  his  companions,  for  the  last  thing 
he  heard  was  a  deep  sigh  from  Miss  Anderson,  as  human 
as  his  own  might  be,  and  the  little  snuffling  breath 
which  sounded  like  a  child  sobbing  and  which  the 
rough-haired  Mongrel  always  gave  when  his  world  went 
askew. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

"  Yea,  beside  the  east-gate  of  Eden, 

(Eden's  bower 's  in  flower  !) 
Where  God  joined  them  and  none  might  sever, 
The  sword  turns  this  way  and  that  for  ever." 

JULY  glided  into  August,  and  still  things  waited. 
People  in  England  went  away  to  the  moors  or  the  sea- 
side or  the  country,  as  usual,  and  when  conversation 
dragged  over  the  dinner-table,  or  there  was  really  no 
local  interest,  they  said,  "  Do  you  think  we  shall  have 
War  in  South  Africa?  —  they  say  the  Ministers  have 
urged  it,  and  the  Queen  won't  sign  !  "  And  then  some 
one  else  said,  "  I  hope  not,  I  'm  sure.  The  Mining 
shares  would  go  down  !  "  And  that  was  all.  Downing 
Street  was  silent,  and  the  Press  yawned  over  the  Dreyfus 
case  still. 

But  in  the  Colony,  the  cord  was  strained  almost  to 
breaking,  and  the  life  out  there  had  the  nervous  tension 
of  a  fractious  woman  who  has  to  partake  of  a  man's 
danger  without  being  told  the  why  or  wherefore.  Eng- 
land represented  the  man,  and  like  a  man  kept  its  own 
counsel.  Africa  was  the  woman  who  must  look  to  her 
lord  and  master  for  succour,  and,  truth  to  tell,  doubts 
but  that  he  bestirs  himself  too  slowly. 

"  The  tone  out  here  is  most  unhealthy  just  now," 
Beau  Livingston  said  discontentedly  —  he  was  calling  on 
the  Strattons,  at  Rondesbosch.  "  I  left  England  be- 
cause of  their  disgusting  habit  of  falling  into  east  winds 
in  the  spring,  and  I  am  not  out  six  months  before  the 
whole  social  system  is  disturbed  by  the  smell  of  War." 

"  But  shall   we  have  it,  Mr.  Livingston  ? "   said   his 


368  The  Story  of  Eden 

hostess,  doubtfully.  "  England  is  so  reluctant  to  fight,  if 
she  can  settle  things  by  talking  nonsense.  They  always 
talk  nonsense  at  Home,  it  seems  to  me,  when  they  want 
to  give  another  Power  time  to  think  better  of  it." 

"  Of  course  it  will  come,"  said  Beau,  quietly.  "  As 
soon  as  the  Boers  are  ready.  I  don't  think  they  are  as 
yet.  Or  else  Steyn  is  trying  to  drive  a  better  bargain 
with  Kruger  than  any  Briton  ever  succeeded  in  doing. 
Set  a  Boer  to  match  a  Boer!  But  can't  you  see  the 
War  yet?  I  can — it  is  nearly  in  the  middle  distance 
now.  And  it  disturbs  and  annoys  my  pastoral  existence 
among  the  plumbago.  All  the  Army  men  are  being  re- 
called or  refused  leave,  out  here,  —  True  is  hardly  to  be 
consoled.  He  has  not  seen  his  mother  for  four  years, 
and  he  does  not  believe  that  he  will  get  much  chance 
of  active  service." 

"  True  adores  his  mother.  It  is  just  the  sort  of  thing 
one  might  expect  from  him,  is  n't  it  ?  Why  does  n't  he 
think  much  of  his  chance?" 

"  They  have  all  got  an  idea  that  they  will  be  drafted 
off  to  guard  the  Border,  and  that  any  fun  there  may  be 
will  be  further  off — in  the  Free  State,  I  suppose.  I 
differ  from  them,  but  time  will  show.  Anyhow  we  are  all 
more  or  less  discontented,  and  Margery  Crofton  is  ill, 
and  I  find  life  uncomfortable." 

"Is  Mrs.  Crofton  ill?  Poor  little  woman!  I  like 
her  very  much,  though  I  have  never  seen  much  of  her. 
What  is  the  matter?  I  must  go  and  call." 

"  Do.  She  likes  visitors  —  I  was  there  yesterday, 
and  I  have  no  doubt  I  shall  find  myself  there  to-morrow. 
I  don't  know  what  the  matter  is,  except  that  Crofton 
insisted  on  her  seeing  a  doctor,  after  the  fussy  habits  of 
husbands,  and  the  doctor,  after  the  manner  of  doctors, 
said  that  she  must  have  absolute  rest.  So  she  is  on  the 
sofa.  I  must  say  she  does  it  very  well,  and  she  looks 
very  nice  on  the  sofa.  Still,  I  would  rather  see  her 
running  about  as  usual." 


The  Story  of  Eden  369 

Mrs.  Stratton  was  not  a  very  young  woman,  and  she 
had  a  certain  kindness  of  heart  under  a  cold  exterior. 
She  had  been  transplanted  to  Africa  too  late  to  become 
affected  with  the  atmosphere.  As  Mrs.  Drysdale  said, 
Women  influenced  the  Colony,  but  the  Colony  in- 
fluenced Girls.  Mrs.  Stratton  was  one  of  the  Women 
who  influenced  the  Colony.  She  had  remained  serenely 
English  and  unassailable  during  the  three  or  four  years 
she  had  lived  in  the  Suburbs,  and  the  people  whom  she 
did  not  care  to  cultivate  always  called  her  a  prig. 

"  Don't  talk  nonsense,  Mr.  Livingston  ! "  she  said 
smiling.  "  But  tell  me  all  about  it.  Mrs.  Crofton  is  not 
a  ma  lade  imaginaire,  is  she?  " 

"  The  powers  preserve  us,  no  !  The  sofa  frets  her 
as  much  as  it  becomes  her.  But  I  admit  that  her  looks 
suggest  its  advisableness.  She  has  taken  to  a  fragile 
appearance  which  is  inducing  Crofton  to  go  Home 
sooner  than  he  intended.  If  you  can  imagine  a  flower 
which  is  temporarily  invalided,  and  which  the  fairies  have 
put  to  bed  on  a  moss-bank,  you  have  got  Mrs.  Crofton 
on  her  sofa." 

"  You  are  quite  hopeless.  But  I  will  go  and  see  for 
myself." 

Which  she  did  the  very  next  day,  and  drove  over  to 
Wynberg  in  the  afternoon.  She  found  Madge  alone,  as 
it  chanced,  Lanse  having  taken  a  flying  visit  to  Con- 
stantia  at  her  own  request ;  the  invalid  was  lying  on  a 
sofa,  as  Beau  had  said,  and  her  appearance  was  some- 
thing of  a  shock  to  Mrs.  Stratton. 

"  Please  don't  get  up,  Mrs.  Crofton !  "  she  said,  as 
Margery  hastily  rose.  "  I  heard  through  Mr.  Livingston 
that  you  had  been  ailing,  and  came  over  just  to  see  how 
you  were.  But  if  you  will  treat  it  as  a  formal  call,  I 
shall  feel  obliged  to  go  ! " 

"  Well,  if  you  would  rather  I  received  you  after  the 
manner  of  a  Sultana,"  said  Margery,  laughing,  as  she 
settled  herself  again  on  her  couch,  "  J  am  so  sorry  my 


370  The  Story  of  Eden 

husband  is  out.  He  has  been  quite  domestic  lately, 
helping  me  to  entertain,  and  making  up  for  my  defici- 
encies. But  I  sent  him  off  to-day  to  look  after  his 
hobby,  the  wine  farm.  It  is  so  dreadful  for  a  man  to  be 
always  tied  to  his  wife's  sofa,  isn't  it?  " 

"  I  think  it  depends  a  good  deal  on  the  wife,  and 
whether  she  pets  her  own  ailments  or  is  really  unwell. 
Mr.  Crofton  ought  to  take  you  Home.  I  expect  the 
climate  is  proving  too  much  for  you." 

"  I  think  it  is  rather.  I  have  been  out  two  years,  and 
they  say  the  first  two  always  serve  you  so.  It  seems 
rather  ridiculous  doesn't  it,  when  we  get  such  perfect 
weather,  and  it  really  is  not  such  a  very  hot  corner  of 
the  world.  I  suppose  it  is  the  change  from  our  English 
inclemency.  When  we  come  out  again  I  expect  to  stay 
quite  a  long  time  without  feeling  it." 

"  I  went  Home  after  the  first  twelve  months  —  but 
that  was  home-sickness  !  "  said  Mrs.  Stratton,  laughing. 
"  Mrs.  Naseby  never  goes  now,  she  tells  me.  At  least 
not  once  in  ten  years.  She  has  no  ties  in  England,  and 
the  climate  suits  her." 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,"  —  Margery  hurled  herself  with 
characteristic  decision  into  the  opening  given  her,  but 
she  clenched  her  little  hot  hands  and  her  throat  went 
dry,  —  "  Mrs.  Naseby  was  telling  me  that  you  had  had 
a  most  unpleasant  experience  with  a  servant  of  yours 
whom  you  dismissed  or  sent  Home  or  something." 
She  gathered  breath  and  went  on.  "  Is  it  true  that  she 
has  married  and  come  out  again?  Lanse  was  saying 
the  other  day  that  he  should  like  to  have  white  servants, 
and  we  could  bring  them  out  from  England.  But  really 
it  seems  to  me  they  generally  turn  out  less  satisfactory 
than  the  black." 

"  I  had  an  English  nurse  when  I  first  came  out,"  said 
Mrs.  Stratton,  quietly.  "  I  am  sorry  to  say  she  got  into 
trouble  here.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  unpleasant  talk, 
and  though  I  do  not  know  that  the  woman  was  entirely 


The  Story  of  Eden  371 

to  blame,  I  dismissed  her  because  I  could  not  have 
that  sort  of  a  person  in  my  household.  We  sent  her 
Home  about  two  years  ago." 

"And  she  has  come  out  again,  married?" 

"  Certainly  not.  She  could  not  have  done  so,  for  she 
had  caught  fever  while  she  was  in  Cape  Town  after 
she  left  me,  and  died  on  the  homeward  voyage." 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  "  The  intense  eagerness  of  Madge's 
whole  nature  thrust  even  her  prudence  on  one  side. 
She  must  know  for  certain,  and  she  questioned  Mrs. 
Stratton  determinedly. 

"  Quite  certain.  A  friend  of  mine  was  going  Home 
on  the  same  boat,  and  wrote  to  me  about  it.  I  am 
sorry  to  say  the  woman  was  not  behaving  very  well  on 
board,  but  her  death  was  terribly  sudden,  poor  thing ! 
She  was  only  ill  a  few  days." 

"  Mrs.  Naseby  was  so  sure  she  had  met  her !  She 
told  me  she  had  married  a  rich  Jew." 

"  Mrs.  Naseby  is  rather  apt  to  be  mistaken,  when  she 
is  most  certain,"  said  Mrs.  Stratton,  dryly.  "  I  think  I 
know  the  people  she  means.  I  have  seen  the  woman 
driving.  At  first  sight,  she  is  rather  like  my  nurse, 
Caroline,  —  I  could  see  it  myself;  but  the  face  is 
quite  different  to  any  one  who  knew  her." 

Margery's  whole  body  quivered  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 
Her  intangible  illness,  which  was  mainly  nerve-prostra- 
tion due  to  the  strain  of  the  last  months,  and  the  endless 
worry  she  had  undergone,  had  ruined  her  old  self-con- 
trol and  evenly  balanced  temperament.  She  found  it 
all  she  could  do  to  keep  up  appearances  before  Mrs. 
Stratton,  after  the  sudden  relief  of  that  lady's  announce- 
ment of  Caroline's  death,  and  to  talk  of  other  topics  as 
usual.  As  her  visitor  rose  to  go,  she  paused  by  the 
sofa  and  looked  down  at  Madge. 

"  I  really  think  you  ought  to  go  Home,  Mrs.  Crofton," 
she  said.  "  I  shall  tell  your  husband  so  when  I  next 
see  him.  The  Colony  is  so  disturbed  top  that  it  is 


372  The  Story  of  Eden 

likely  to  be  a  most  undesirable  place  of  residence  in 
the  near  future." 

"  Mr.  Livingston  thinks  we  shall  have  War,"  remarked 
Margery.  She  was  wishing  that  Mrs.  Stratton  would 
go,  and  fearing  every  moment  that  she  would  break 
down. 

"  Yes,  and  indeed  it  looks  like  it.  I  suppose  you 
have  heard  about  the  Duke's?" 

"  No,  except  that  they  had  a  scare  last  week.  All 
the  mess-plate  was  packed  up,  and  they  thought  they 
were  really  going." 

"  They  are  really  going.  They  are  off  on  Wednesday. 
To  Mafeking  or  Matjesfontein,  they  don't  know  which. 
My  husband  met  Major  Reynolds  this  morning,  and 
heard  it  from  him." 

Margery  sank  back  on  her  pillows  turning  very  white. 
The  sudden  evaporation  of  all  her  dangers  together  was 
as  great  a  shock  to  her  jarred  nerves  as  the  exposure  she 
had  dreaded  would  have  been.  Perhaps  it  shook  her 
more  potently  still,  at  the  moment,  for  had  she  had  to 
face  the  worst,  she  would  have  braced  herself  to  do  it, 
whereas  the  knowledge  that  by  Vibart's  departure,  and 
the  ceasing  of  gossip  among  the  men  of  the  Duke's,  her 
own  safety  was  secured,  relaxed  her  strained  senses  so 
that  for  a  minute  she  thought  she  was  going  to  faint. 
She  found  herself  saying  mechanically,  "  I  never  knew 
Major  Reynolds  well.  He  has  only  come  out  lately," 
as  she  shook  hands  with  Mrs.  Stratton.  Then  with  a 
plucky  effort  she  pulled  herself  together.  "  I  shall  be 
awfully  sorry  if  they  lose  any  of  the  men  I  know,"  she 
said  as  naturally  as  she  could.  "  How  dreadful  it  will 
be  saying  good-bye  to  them  all !  I  wonder  True  did  not 
come  and  tell  me." 

"  I  expect  he  has  hardly  had  time.  There  will  be  a 
lot  of  leave-taking  in  the  next  week  or  so.  The  Rut- 
landshire will  probably  follow  them  shortly." 

(t  And  we  shall  be  left  quite  unprotected !     Are  you 


The  Story  of  Eden  373 

nervous,  Mrs.  Stratton  ?     Good-bye  !     Thanks  so  much 
for  coming  to  see  me.     It  is  dull  work  lying  here." 

Mrs.  Stratton  went  home  with  a  thoughtful  face. 
"How  white  she  went  when  I  told  her!"  she  said. 
"  And  it  is  Colonel  Vibart's  Regiment !  Can  there  be 
any  truth  in  that  story?  More  than  ever  now  I  think 
Mr.  Crofton  ought  to  take  his  wife  Home." 

When  Lansing  came  in,  about  twenty  minutes  later,  he 
was  surprised  to  find  no  light  in  the  room  where  he  had 
left  Margery.  She  had  evidently  not  rung  for  the  ser- 
vants to  bring  lamps,  and  he  threw  off  his  overcoat  and 
went  into  the  room  hastily  to  see  to  the  omission  for  her. 

"Why,  Madge,  why  have  n't  you  lighted  up  ?  "  he  began, 
stumbling  against  a  low  chair.  There  was  only  the  fire 
to  struggle  with  the  darkness,  and  that  had  sunk  so  low 
that  at  first  he  did  not  see  the  outline  of  Margery's  pros- 
trate figure  on  the  sofa.  But  he  stopped  short  as  if  struck. 
She  was  lying  with  her  face  buried  in  the  cushions,  cry- 
ing as  if  her  heart  were  breaking,  and  with  the  abandon- 
ment of  a  child.  He  went  over  and  dropped  on  his 
knees  by  her  side. 

"Margery,  what  is  it?  Madge,  my  darling,  do  you 
feel  so  ill?" 

She  laid  her  head  on  his  shoulder  as  he  raised  her, 
but  for  a  time  she  was  quite  unable  to  stop  the  wild 
tempest  of  tears  which  had  overtaken  her.  He  could 
have  no  idea  that  the  fit  of  crying  which  so  frightened 
him  was  the  long  pent-up  terror  of  the  past  twelve  months 
finding  relief  at  last.  Nor  could  she  explain.  After  a 
time  she  stopped  crying  and  simply  lay  in  his  arms  as 
weak  as  if  she  had  had  a  long  illness,  while  he  held  her 
tenderly,  trying  to  disguise  his  anxiety. 

"Madge,"  he  said  at  last  gently,  "  what  was  it,  dear? 
Do  you  feel  so  ill  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  —  it  was  nothing,"  she  whispered.  "  I  think 
it  did  me  good.  I  have  been  feeling  like  a  breakdown 
for  some  days.  I  'ra  sorry,  Lanse, —  don't  worry." 


374  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  I  'm  not  worrying,  only  I  can't  bear  to  see  you  so. 
Would  you  like  Blanche  —  Mrs.  Cunningham  —  to  come 
over  and  stay  for  a  day  or  so  ?  I  'm  sure  she  would." 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  She  smiled  a  little,  and  put  her  hand  up 
to  his  face  with  a  little  caress.  "  I  am  quite  content 
with  you  !  I  am  only  —  only  rather  run  down." 

"  I  shall  get  you  a  glass  of  wine,"  Lanse  said  de- 
cidedly, laying  her  back  carefully  on  the  pillows.  He 
found  a  relief  in  the  practical  suggestion,  and  it  seemed 
to  dispel  the  discomfort  of  his  wife's  intangible  ailment. 
"  I  don't  believe  that  doctor  prescribes  for  you  properly 
—  what  you  want  is  port  wine  and  feeding  up." 

"  All  right  —  you  take  the  case  in  hand.  I  should 
like  the  wine,"  Madge  said  languidly,  and  while  he  went 
to  fetch  it,  she  pulled  herself  together  and  wiped  her 
eyes  and  smoothed  her  ruffled  hair.  When  Lanse  re- 
turned she  was  already  better,  and  her  colour  returned 
a  little  after  the  stimulant.  Lanse  sat  on  the  edge  of 
the  sofa  while  she  drank  it,  gazing  at  her  in  his  unwaver- 
ing fashion  with  his  curious  coloured  eyes. 

"I  say,  Madge,"  he  said.  "I  shall  have  to  take  you 
Home  if  you  go  on  like  this." 

"  I  don't  mean  to  go  on  like  this,  though.  Here 's 
my  own  health  ! "  She  laughed  faintly,  and  swallowed 
the  wine. 

"Well,  but  would  you  like  to  go  —  sooner  than  I 
meant?" 

"  Yes,  I  should  like  it,"  said  Madge,  slowly ;  but  her 
tone  was  not  so  heartfelt  as  it  would  have  been  earlier 
in  the  day  before  the  causes  of  her  fear  were  removed. 
"  But  you  really  need  n't  hurry  on  my  account.  Lanse. 
I  shall  be  all  right.  If  it  were  n't  for  this  War  business, 
I  could  go  Up  Country  and  be  braced  up." 

He  shook  his  head.  "  There  will  be  no  going  Up 
Country  for  holiday  trips  at  present,"  he  said.  "  It 's 
going  to  be  a  big  thing,  Madge,  —  only  don't  repeat 
what  I  tell  you.  It  won't  do  any  good,  and  it  might  do 


The  Story  of  Eden  375 

harm.  The  whole  of  South  Africa  will  be  like  a  volcano 
in  a  very  short  time." 

"Then  you  must  n't  go  Home,"  said  Madge,  decidedly. 
"You  '11  want  to  stay  and  look  after  things,  won't  you?" 

"  I  should  like  to  stay  and  have  a  brush  at  them  with 
the  irregulars !  "  She  gave  a  slight  cry,  and  sat  up 
quivering. 

"  Oh,  Lanse  I  you  would  n't  —  would  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  shall  take  you  Home.  You  are  not  fit  to  be 
left  —  at  present,"  he  added  inwardly,  but  the  reservation 
of  his  tone  passed  her  by.  He  was  making  a  greater 
self-sacrifice  than  she  could  understand,  even  if  she  had 
realised  how  keen  a  temptation  it  would  be  to  him  to 
volunteer.  Lanse  had  thrown  himself,  with  charac- 
teristic intensity,  into  the  question  of  the  Outlander's 
rights,  and  had  identified  himself  with  the  interests  of 
his  adopted  country  so  that  the  coming  struggle  was  of 
vital  importance  to  him.  He  felt  his  own  going  Home 
almost  as  a  desertion,  and  had  gone  through  a  mental 
struggle  before  he  decided  that  he  was  responsible  for 
his  wife  before  more  public  claims  upon  him,  and  that 
though  it  touched  his  honour  to  turn  his  back  without 
striking  a  blow  for  British  interests,  he  must  take  Madge 
back  to  England  first,  and  then  —  if  she  were  stronger 
—  well,  he  might  get  a  chance  after  all !  Once  he  had 
made  up  his  mind~to  a  thing,  he  did  not  discourse  on  it, 
not  only  because  he  was  a  secretive  animal  by  nature, 
but  because  to  decide  meant  with  him  to  do,  and  dis- 
cussion was  superfluous.  Therefore  Madge,  naturally 
enough,  did  not  gauge  the  reluctance  beneath  his  sug- 
gestion when  he  said,  "  I  can  get  things  into  shape,  and 
leave  by  October  or  November.  How  would  that  suit 
you?" 

"  Perfectly,"  she  returned.  "  Only  I  shall  hate  leav- 
ing the  house  so  soon  after  we've  got  it  just  to  our 
liking  ! " 

"  We  '11  let  it  furnished.     I  sha'n't  sell,  after  the  usual 


376  The  Story  of  Eden 

fashion.  We  can  come  back  again  —  when  things  are 
more  settled,"  he  said  grimly,  with  a  close  shutting  of 
his  lips. 

"  And  it  may  not  come  to  anything,"  said  Madge, 
hopefully.  "  Major  Yeats  was  talking  about  our  making 
an  armed  demonstration  the  other  day.  Perhaps  that 
will  bring  them  to  reason,  —  Lanse,  when  you  shut  your 
lips  like  that  you  might  be  Fate,  or  the  Sphinx,  or  some- 
thing equally  wise  and  implacable  !  You  evidently  don't 
agree  with  my  optimistic  views.  What  a  good  chin  you 
have,  by  the  way  !  " 

He  smiled,  being  perfectly  aware  of  his  own  good 
points.  As  he  sat  facing  her  on  the  edge  of  her  couch, 
Madge  looked  at  him  with  some  pride.  The  greens  and 
greys  of  his  eyes,  which  were  even  hazel  in  some  lights, 
the  invincible  line  of  brow  and  jaw,  —  even  the  little 
trick  of  thrusting  out  his  chin,  and  a  way  he  had  of 
closing  his  ringers  firmly  on  anything  he  touched,  struck 
her  as  distinguished  peculiarities  contrasted  with  other 
men's  more  uniform  good  looks.  "  Lanse  could  never 
be  lost  in  a  crowd,"  she  thought,  and  then  with  the  old 
fear,  "  How  much  I  have  grown  to  care  for  him ! 
Supposing  I  had  lost  him  !  —  for  sometimes  I  hold  my 
breath  with  the  fear  that  he  would  never  forgive  me. 
He  is  not  very  merciful,  and  if  he  had  found  out  — 
But  I  won't  think  of  that  now,  for  I  needn't." 

The  strain  of  many  months  was  not  to  be  recovered 
from  in  as  many  hours,  but  Madge  was  healthy,  and 
possessed  of  wonderful  recuperative  power,  once  her 
mind  was  at  ease,  and  she  really  looked  much  better  in 
a  day  or  so.  Lanse  said  it  was  his  prescriptions,  and 
took  much  credit  to  himself  for  his  doctoring  and  the 
wine  and  beef  tea  which  Madge  meekly  swallowed  by 
his  orders. 

The  trial  of  the  next  few  days  was  the  series  of  fare- 
well visits  from  the  Duke's  which  poured  in  upon  her, 
and  which  she  had  serious  thoughts  of  inviting  Blanche 


The  Story  of  Eden  377 

to  come  and  share,  for  she  did  not  relish  the  idea  of 
tete-a-tete  partings  with  some  of  her  friends.  More 
especially  had  she  a  dread  of  meeting  True,  and  of  his 
speaking  plainly  again  in  the  stress  of  a  last  interview. 
Since  that  day  of  his  race  from  Simon's  Town  to  warn 
her  and  send  her  home,  she  had  contrived  never  to  see 
him  alone.  She  felt,  in  the  shrinking  of  her  overwrought 
nerves,  that  she  could  not.  It  had  been  as  True  had 
feared,  for  she  had  never  since  that  day  been  the  same 
to  him,  though  her  manner  showed  no  outward  altera- 
tion in  other  people's  presence.  But  he  knew  it,  and  he 
knew  also  that  nothing  harder  than  this  could  be  asked 
of  him  in  his  struggle  to  help  her.  Lanse  was  with  her, 
as  it  happened,  when  Truman  came  to  say  good-bye ;  it 
was  a  difficult  visit,  and  for  once  his  cheery  talk  and 
smile  failed  him.  He  stood  silent,  at  the  very  last,  with 
his  big  eyes  so  dark  and  strained  that  Madge  felt  an 
agonized  dread  of  looking  at  him,  for  fear  they  should 
be  wet. 

"  Good-bye,  True,"  she  said,  as  he  was  leaving.  "  I 
hope  you  will  come  back  quite  safe,  and  win  the  Cross  ! 
Don't  quite  forget  me." 

Her  voice  softened,  as  if  she  asked  his  pardon.  The 
hand  that  held  hers  tightened  —  it  was  the  only  assur- 
ance he  could  give  of  his  loyalty. 

"  Good-bye,  Lady,"  he  said.  "I  hope  you  will  soon 
get  quite  strong  and  well  again  !  " 

Then  he  went.  Lanse  accompanied  him  to  the  door, 
and  shook  hands  heartily,  for  he  had  liked  True  with  the 
instinct  of  one  honest  man  for  another.  "  Good  luck, 
old  fellow !  "  he  said.  "  Sure  you  won't  have  a  peg 
before  you  go?"  Lanse's  demonstrations  of  good  fel- 
lowship were  invariably  material,  and  very  masculine. 

"  No  thanks.     I  've  got  other  calls  to  make  ! " 

"  True 's  as  decent  a  fellow  as  I  ever  met,''  Lanse  re- 
marked, as  he  re-entered  the  drawing-room.  "  I  'm 
awfully  sorry  he 's  going.  Soldier's  fortune  though,  of 


378  The  Story  of  Eden 

course,  and  the  best  thing  for  him,"  he  added  almost 
enviously. 

"  Yes,"  said  Madge,  with  a  little  gasp.  "  I  hope  I 
sha'n't  have  to  say  good-bye  to  many  men  I  like, 
knowing  that  they  may  be  killed  !  I  shall  certainly  ask 
Blanche  to  come  over  and  support  me  until  they  are 
gone ! " 

Blanche  was  perfectly  willing  to  come  on  application, 
and  drove  over  regularly  for  the  next  three  afternoons 
before  the  Duke's  departure,  without  asking  leave  of  her 
husband  or  taking  the  least  notice  of  his  unsweetened 
remarks.  He  liked  some  one  at  hand  to  pour  out  his 
tea  for  him,  —  which,  as  his  wife  explained,  he  could  per- 
fectly well  do  for  himself  upon  occasion.  Blanche  was 
the  right  woman  to  cope  with  an  inherent  bully,  and  the 
Professor  was  very  much  married,  as  he  found  to  his 
own  impotent  disgust.  The  shouting  policy  proved  in- 
effective, save  that  it  certainly  drove  his  wife  out  of  the 
room  and  left  him  to  swear  at  space.  Blanche  had  gauged 
Anthony  Cunningham,  and  she  knew  where  her  power 
lay.  When  he  grumbled  or  stormed,  she  used  to  lie 
back  in  an  easy-chair  and  cross  her  knees  with  an  inim- 
itable flutter  of  frills,  and  a  display  of  coloured  ankles 
more  expressive  than  any  words.  Every  inch  of  lace 
beneath  her  skirts  devoted  the  Professor  to  the  devil, 
and  her  shapely  movements  suggested  threats  he  had 
learned  to  understand.  She  did  not  care  two  straws  for 
his  ravings ;  but  he  had  come  to  care  very  much  that 
his  bullying  career  had  ended  in  a  woman  having  the 
whip  hand  of  him.  Blanche  was  avenging  her  sex,  both 
black  and  white. 

"  How 's  Anthony  ?  "  Madge  said  when  her  sister-in- 
law  first  appeared  in  answer  to  her  invitation.  "  I  was 
afraid  he  might  prevent  your  coming."  She  spoke  with 
intentional  malice,  to  enjoy  the  answer.  Blanche  's  bear- 
taming  never  lost  its  charm  for  her  on  Account  of  old 
scores. 


The  Story  of  Eden  379 

"Were  you?"  said  Mrs.  Cunningham,  raising  her 
eyebrows.  "  He  was  n't." 

"Did  he  say  anything?"  asked  Madge.  Mrs.  Cun- 
ningham's reports  of  former  conversations  had  had  a 
rich  flavour  for  all  their  terseness. 

"  Well,  no,  I  did  n't  mention  the  subject,  so  he  has 
not  as  yet  said  anything.  When  he  does  it  will  be  time 
enough  to  think  of  an  —  explanation  !  " 

Margery  chuckled.  Whether  or  no  the  Professor  pro- 
tested, Blanche  drove  over  each  day  and  stayed  until 
dinner-time,  returning  to  Vine  Lodge  for  that  meal, 
spiced  with  a  renewal  of  hostilities  from  the  Professor. 
It  disturbed  her  not  at  all ;  in  fact  she  had  no  objection 
to  such  spicing,  for  it  relieved  the  tameness  of  the  tete- 
a-tete,  and  gave  her  a  display  of  power,  and  practice  in 
keeping  the  upper  hand.  With  her  assistance,  Madge 
got  over  farewell  visits  from  Forrester  and  Ransom, 
Henderson,  Wright,  Tennyson,  and  a  score  of  others. 
The  two  whose  final  appearance  had  stood  out  in  her 
imagination  beforehand  —  V.  C.  and  Mowbray  —  did 
not  appear  until  the  last  day  before  the  Regiment's  de- 
parture. Then  the  one  over-lapped  the  other,  and  as 
Mowbray  was  still  present  when  Cayley  appeared,  Mar- 
gery saw  that  she  was  caught  in  a  trap.  Blanche  could 
only  talk  to  one,  and  the  other  would  be  free  to  say 
more  than  the  conventional  adieu  to  her,  if  he  chose. 
The  other  happened  to  be  Mowbray,  and  he  did  choose. 
He  came  straight  to  his  object,  after  the  manner  of  a 
boy.  and  crossing  the  room  sat  down  by  Margery's  side 
the  instant  that  Blanche  began  to  talk  to  Cayley. 

"  Madge,"  he  said,  and  the  tone  was  dangerously  full 
of  feeling,  "  I  want  to  ask  a  favour  of  you." 

"Well,  Miles?" 

"  Will  you  give  me  a  photograph  ?  I  know  it 's  in- 
fernal cheek,  but  —  but  there  's  always  the  chance  that 
I  may  n't  see  you  again,  you  know." 

"  Don't ! "  she  said  with  a  sudden  sharp  pain  in  her 


380  The  Story  of  Eden 

voice.  It  was  not  so  much  for  him,  individually,  as  for 
the  momentary  realisation  of  the  grim  reality  of  this 
leave-taking.  It  seemed  almost  impossible  that  these 
commonplace,  ordinary  young  men  who  had  been  mak- 
ing hurried  calls  on  her  during  the  last  few  days,  during 
which  they  sat  and  talked  as  usual,  —  if  with  a  trifle 
more  forced  lightness,  —  among  the  pretty  everyday  sur- 
roundings of  her  home,  could  be  transformed  into  pos- 
sible heroes,  with  more  than  a  probability  of  death  but  a 
few  short  months  away  from  them.  Once  more  the 
sunlight  mocked  the  serious  side  of  life,  as  it  danced 
among  the  flowers  and  about  the  pretty,  dainty  room 
where  she  had  so  often  entertained  them.  .  .  . 

Mowbray  looked  at  her  in  silence  for  a  minute,  all 
his  boyish  soul  in  his  young  blue  eyes.  Neither  curly 
hair  or  colourless  skin,  nor  a  certain  comic  appearance 
which  had  gained  him  a  soubriquet  of  "  Toby  "  in  the 
Duke's,  could  do  away  with  the  dignity  of  his  very  real 
feeling.  Because  he  was  in  earnest,  he  was  a  man  with 
a  man's  value. 

"I  wanted  to  see  you  alone,"  he  said.  "I  had  so 
much  to  say !  I  never  expected  to  find  your  sister-in- 
law  here." 

"  I  think  it  was  better  not,"  she  said  gently. 

He  did  not  answer,  but  went  on  looking  at  her  in  the 
same  concentrated  way,  as  if  he  could  not  look  his  full, 
until  he  left.  Margery  glanced  helplessly  at  Blanche. 
She  did  not  like  to  go  and  let  him  out  herself,  for  fear 
he  should  break  down  ;  but  there  was  a  troubled,  pitiful 
look  in  her  eyes  as  she  gave  him  her  hand.  He 
gripped  it  until  the  rings  cut  into  the  flesh,  quite  uncon- 
scious of  the  nervous  strength  of  his  own  clasp. 

"  Good-bye  —  God  bless  you !  "  he  said  huskily  under 
his  breath. 

"Good-bye,  Miles,"  she  returned,  her  own  voice  a 
little  unsteady.  "  I  will  send  you  the  photo." 

Mrs.  Cunningham  good-naturedly  came  to  the  rescue. 


The  Story  of  Eden  381 

Instead  of  ringing  the  bell  for  the  servant,  she  went  to 
the  front  door  with  him  herself.  "  He  was  awfully 
upset,"  she  said  to  Madge  afterwards.  "  And  we  did  n't 
want  that  black  girl  staring  her  eyes  out  at  him.  I 
waited  some  minutes  while  he  recovered  himself." 

"  He  is  so  young !  "  Madge  said  pitifully. 

"  I  know.  He 's  very  much  in  love  with  you  and 
very  miserable.  A  big  fight  will  be  the  best  thing  pos- 
sible for  him.  I  told  him  so,  while  we  stood  at  the  front 
door,  and  I  pretended  that  I  had  n't  seen  his  eyes." 

Margery  had  cause  to  know  that  Blanche  was  some 
minutes  gone  from  the  room.  As  soon  as  the  door  had 
closed  behind  them,  Cayley  came  over  and  stood  by 
the  mantelpiece,  with  his  arm  resting  on  it,  looking 
down  at  her. 

"  It  is  so  dreadful ! "  she  said  involuntarily.  "  I  can't 
bear  to  think  of  you  all  going  away !  " 

"  Can't  you  ?  It 's  the  best  thing  that  could  happen 
to  some  of  us, "  ne  said  wearily. 

"  Are  you  glad  to  go?" 

"  Very." 

She  thought  of  his  untidy,  degraded  home  life,  and 
her  eyes  were  wetter  than  they  had  been  for  Mowbray. 

"  I  never  realised  until  to-day  that  you  might  be 
killed,"  she  said  with  a  little  shudder. 

"  So  much  the  better,"  he  said  in  his  most  cynical 
voice.  He  was  pulling  at  the  brown  moustache  which 
hid  the  lines  round  his  mouth  with  strong,  restless 
fingers.  It  was  a  little  trick  she  knew  well. 

"  I  suppose  I  can't  do  anything  for  you  ? "  she  said 
vaguely,  with  an  impulse  of  indefinite  pain. 

"  I  can't  think  of  anything  you  could  do,"  he  returned 
in  a  curious  tone.  She  looked  up,  and  their  eyes  met. 
Margery  sprang  to  her  feet  suddenly,  as  if  the  tension  of 
the  moment  were  too  great. 

"  Oh,  please  don't ! "  she  said,  almost  crying.  "  Please 
don't  1 " 


382  The  Story  of  Eden 

"Do  you  know  what  I  am  regretting?"  he  said 
fiercely.  "  It  is  that  we  have  n't  been  anything  to  each 
other.  You  have  n't  wanted  me.  You  have  left  me  out 
in  the  cold.  Oh,  I  know  you  never  cared  much  for  me 
—  but  you  might  at  least  have  pretended  that  you  did. 
You  have  done  so  for  scores  of  others." 

"  I  thought  you  were  too  good  to  flirt  with  !  —  I  always 
liked  talking  to  you,"  she  said  with  a  directness  which 
surprised  herself. 

"  Did  you  ?  "  he  said.     "  But  I  never  knew  it." 

"  I  can't  help  that.  I  showed  you  as  plainly  as  1 
could." 

"  I  am  ungrateful,"  he  said.  "  You  have  always  been 
very  good  to  me." 

Blanche's  footstep  came  back  along  the  hall. 

"I  liked  you,"  said  Madge,  simply. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  with  his  tired  little  laugh.  "That 
was  just  it  —  and  explains  it  nicely.  You — liked  me  !" 

The  old  feeling  that  she  had  missed  this  man  among 
other  and  more  harmful  interests  in  her  life,  came  back 
upon  her  with  a  sense  of  loss.  They  might  at  least 
have  been  friends.  It  almost  seemed  as  if  they  might 
have  helped  each  other. 

"The  worst  of  such  mistakes  is  that  other  people 
suffer  for  them  too,"  she  mused  aloud.  "  It  is  too  late 
now." 

"  Yes,"  he  agreed,  "  it  is  too  late  now !  " 

As  Blanche  opened  the  door,  V.  C.  was  shaking  hands 
with  Madge,  and  saying  good-bye.  "  We  are  off  to- 
morrow about  eleven,"  he  said.  "  Stick  a  Union  Jack 
over  your  front  gate,  and  wish  us  good  luck,  Mrs. 
Crofton." 

"  I  will  come  down  to  the  Station  and  see  you  pass 
through,"  Madge  began.  "  No,"  she  added,  "  I  think  I 
won't.  Good-bye." 

She  had  dropped  her  handkerchief  as  she  rose.  It 
lay  at  their  feet,  a  little  white  morsel  smelling  of  violets, 


The  Story  of  Eden  383 

soft,  lace-edged,  infinitely  feminine  and  delicate.  For  a 
moment  he  hesitated  as  if  he  were  going  to  pick  it  up ; 
then  he  turned  away  without  a  second  look,  and  went. 
She  understood  that  he  would  not  have  returned  it  to 
her,  had  he  stooped  for  it ;  that  was  why  he  left  it  lying 
where  it  was. 

"  What  a  dreadful  day  !  "  Margery  said  when  all  her 
visitors,  even  Blanche,  had  gone.  "I  am  really  glad 
that  they  are  leaving  to-morrow.  I  could  not  have 
said  good-bye  to  anyone  else." 

At  dinner  Lanse  asked  her  who  had  called,  and  she 
told  him. 

"  I  was  glad  Blanche  was  here,"  she  said,  trying  to 
speak  lightly.  "  We  were  all  very  emotional.  She  was 
the  saving  element  of  sense." 

"  She  is  always  woman  of  the  world  enough  to  be 
practical,"  said  Lanse,  dryly.  "  And  her  sense  of 
humour  is  a  thing  to  be  dreaded.  A  woman  of  that 
sort  is  far  less  sentimental  than  the  strongest  man. 
These  patties  are  awfully  good,  Madge.  Have  another?" 

"  No,  thank  you.  I  will  feed  up  in  moderation,  but 
my  appetite  is  not  yet  equal  to  your  demands  upon  it" 

"  Have  some  more  pontac  then  ?  —  I  wish  you  would 
drink  port,  though.  It  is  much  better  for  you.  What  is 
it,  Mary?" 

The  Kaffir  girl  was  standing  at  his  elbow,  hesitating 
evidently  with  something  to  say. 

"  Please,  sir,  there 's  a  big  fire,  over  at  Newlands,  they 
think,"  she  said. 

"  By  Jove !  a  bush  fire,  is  there  ?  If  this  wind  holds 
it  will  spread,  I  'm  afraid." 

"  Let 's  go  out  and  see  if  we  can  see  it,  Lanse,"  said 
Margery.  "  I  've  quite  done." 

"  Finish  your  wine  then.  I  'm  not  going  to  let  you 
off  your  medicine  !  And  wrap  up,  dear.  It 's  chilly  ! " 

He  caught  up  a  long  fur-trimmed  wrap  as  they  passed 
through  the  hall,  and  threw  it  over  her  shoulders. 


384  The  Story  of  Eden 

There  was  no  doubt  about  the  extent  of  the  fire;  as 
they  stepped  out  onto  the  stoep  at  the  back  of  the 
house,  Margery  exclaimed.  The  whole  country  side 
was  alight  with  a  rosy  glow,  the  bare  fields  and  leafless 
trees  looking  black  and  mysterious,  as  if  they  were 
strange  things  suddenly  revealed.  Behind  the  long 
mountain  line  was  a  glare  of  intense  light,  every  now 
and  then  a  colossal  tongue  of  flame  leaping  into  actual 
existence,  and  displaying  the  volumes  of  smoke  which 
were  rolling  along  the  crest  before  the  wind. 

"  It  is  n't  Newlands,"  said  Lanse,  with  interest.  "  It 's 
right  behind  the  mountain.  By  Jove  !  I  hope  Groote 
Schuur  won't  suffer  !  " 

"  Poor  Mr.  Rhodes  !  Another  fire  !  —  no,  I  hope  it 
won't.  They  can't  get  any  water  up  there,  Lanse.  I 
wonder  what  caused  it." 

"  Some  fool  of  a  Kaffir  smoking.  The  bush  has  been 
dry  enough  to  catch  from  the  merest  spark  for  the  past 
week  or  so.  They  '11  have  to  turn  out  the  Rutlandshire, 
and  tramp  it  out.  If  the  wind  shifts,  it  will  threaten  the 
Camp." 

"  How  beautiful  it  is !  "  said  Madge,  as  a  great  sheet 
of  flame  was  tossed  along  the  ridge,  and  hill  and  valley 
glowed  out  in  black  and  rose  colour  in  the  momentary 
illumination.  "Hark!  there's  some  one  riding  along 
the  road." 

"  Going  to  see  if  they  can  get  near  it,"  said  Lanse,  his 
tone  crisp  with  excitement.  "  There 's  the  bugle !  —  I 
said  they  would  turn  the  Regiment  out." 

"  How  faint  it  sounds  from  here!  "  said  Madge,  half 
under  her  breath.  She  thought  of  the  clearness  of  the 
call  from  Vine  Lodge  ;  they  could  hear  it  plainly  there, 
she  knew.  The  Rosary  was  further  off. 

"  I  've  a  great  mind  to  have  the  Kaisir  saddled  and 
ride  up  there,"  said  Lanse,  with  some  indecision. 

"  Do  !  "  said  Margery,  knowing  that  he  wanted  to  go, 
and  was  hesitating  for  her.  "  I  don't  mind  being  left  a 


The  Story  of  Eden  385 

bit,  and  I  want  to  know  all  about  it.  I  can  watch  it 
from  here." 

"  Don't  catch  cold  then !  "  he  said,  as  he  ran  down 
the  steps  and  towards  the  stable.  "  Go  in  if  you  feel 
chilly,  and  have  some  more  wine." 

Margery  laughed.  A  few  minutes  later  she  heard  the 
horse's  impatient  hoofs  on  the  gravel,  and  Lanse  called 
to  her  as  he  passed,  "  Henry  says  it 's  spreading  to 
Bishop's  Court.  But  I  shall  go  up  to  the  Hen  and 
Chickens  first." 

"  It  sounds  like  a  public  house  ! "  said  Madge,  whimsi- 
cally, to  herself.  "  Who  would  guess  that  it  was  only 
three  great  stones.  I  wonder  how  those  huge  boulders 
got  so  far  up  the  mountain-side,  by  the  way." 

She  went  into  the  house  to  see  that  the  servants  had 
cleared  the  table,  and  not  congregated  at  the  kitchen 
door  to  watch  the  fire,  and  then  after  a  while  returned 
to  her  vantage  point  on  the  stoep.  The  fire  still  burned 
steadily,  the  rolling,  flame-dyed  smoke  sweeping  fitfully 
over  the  hill,  threatening  the  Camp  if  the  fire  once 
got  a  grip  of  the  intervening  wooded  slopes,  and  the 
flames  leapt  merrily  up  to  the  black  vault  of  sky.  A 
watery  moon  was  feebly  disputing  the  lighting  of  the 
night  with  the  fire,  and  flickered  in  and  out  among  the 
leafless  trees,  with  the  scud  of  the  flying  clouds  across 
her  face.  The  wind  still  blew  gustily,  fanning  the  blaze. 
It  was  a  large  bush  fire,  and  would  prove  terribly  de- 
structive before  the  soldiers  could  tramp  it  under. 
Margery  watched  it  with  admiration  largely  tempered  by 
regret ;  she  knew  all  the  country  which  it  was  reducing 
to  charred  ugliness,  and  she  was  sorry  to  think  of  the 
great  oaks  and  firs  of  Bishop's  Court  falling  victims,  for 
it  had  been  one  of  her  favourite  rides.  Lanse  had  been 
gone  some  twenty  minutes  when  she  heard  the  sound  of 
hoofs  again,  and  was  wondering  what  brought  him  back 
so  soon,  when  she  realised  that  they  had  stopped  in 
front  of  the  house.  It  was  not  Lanse,  but  whoever  it 
25 


3 86  The  Story  of  Eden 

was  had  evidently  handed  over  his  mount  to  one  of  the 
grooms,  and  was  coming  along  the  stoep  —  round  the 
corner  of  the  house  —  towards  her. 

She  clenched  her  hands  suddenly  and  tightly  with 
spasmodic  recognition  of  the  step,  even  as  a  big  figure 
came  in  sight,  and  her  retreat  was  cut  off. 

"  Why  do  you  come  to-night  —  to-night  — 
So  many  miles  of  wind  and  rain  ?  " 

Was  there  a  wailing  human  voice  in  the  wind  that  the 
words  rang  so  distinctly  in  her  ears  ?  And  was  this  not 
Lovelace  incarnate  in  debonair  beauty  and  reckless  pur- 
suit of  an  old  love,  denied  him  long  since? 

"  Colonel  Vibart,"  she  said  with  sudden  composure, 
holding  out  her  hand.  "  How  do  you  do  ?  I  was 
watching  the  fire." 

"  I  have  been  up  there,"  he  said  in  the  easy  musical 
voice  she  knew  so  well.  "  I  was  dining  with  the  Rut- 
landshire, and  when  they  turned  out  I  went  up  also." 

"  Are  they  getting  it  under  ?  " 

"  As  far  as  possible.  I  am  afraid  it  will  do  a  good 
deal  of  damage.  I  met  your  husband  up  there,"  he 
said  abruptly. 

So  he  knew  that  Lanse  was  out  —  and  he  had  ridden 
down  at  once.  Was  that  why  ?  — 

"  '  Why  do  you  come  to-night  —  to-night  ? 

It  might  mean  death  to  both  of  us  I ' 
1  Oh,  but  I  come  with  much  delight  — 
All  things  I  love  are  dangerous  I ' " 

She  instinctively  drew  back,  and  his  next  words  con- 
firmed her  fear. 

"  I  came  because  I  wanted  to  see  you  alone,"  he  said 
gravely.  "  I  would  not  call,  because  I  knew  I  should 
find  half  a  dozen  people  here  too.  Rather  than  say 
good-bye  like  that,  I  would  not  have  said  it  at  all." 

She  did  not  answer.  The  strain  of  the  afternoon 
had  softened  her,  and  that  word  "  good-bye  "  echoed 


The  Story  of  Eden  387 

piteously  in  her  mind.  Her  mood  was,  for  the  moment, 
more  assailable  than  Vibart  had  ever  found  it  since  his 
return  —  than  he  would  probably  ever  have  found  it 
again. 

"  Margery,"  he  began  gently,  but  his  voice  deepened 
to  passion  as  he  went  on,  "  after  everything  that  has 
been  between  us  —  I  must  refer  to  it,  though  I  know 
you  would  rather  not  —  I  find  I  can't  go  quite  away, 
with  the  chance  of  death  before  me,  without  saying 
good-bye  to  the  woman  I  have  loved  best  in  the  world  !  " 

She  looked  up  with  a  shiver  as  he  spoke  of  that 
chance  of  death,  already  brought  so  near  to  her  un- 
derstanding to-day.  He  had  thrown  back  the  heavy 
military  overcoat  he  wore,  and  his  big  figure  in  its  hand- 
some uniform  seemed  a  startling  contrast  to  the  pos- 
sibility of  which  he  spoke.  He  was  so  splendid,  —  the 
old  physical  admiration  of  him,  quite  apart  from  any 
personal  attraction,  impressed  Margery  anew  as  she 
gazed  up  at  his  agitated  face,  from  which  all  the  debo- 
nair carelessness  seemed  to  have  flown  in  his  unusual 
earnestness.  Jack  dead !  She  could  not  realise  it. 
All  this  animal  beauty  and  frank  vitality,  whose  very 
vices  were  the  outcome  of  a  too  exuberant  nature, 
shot  down,  as  it  well  might  be,  like  any  lesser  man! 
She  stared  at  him  in  wordless  denial.  He  could  not 
be  killed  !  But  —  there  was  the  chance  of  it,  as  to  any 
other  soldier,  and  the  thought  disarmed  her  as  no  other 
appeal  could  have  done. 

"  Madge,  won't  you  be  kind  to  me  just  this  once  ?" 
he  whispered,  stretching  out  his  arms.  The  red  glow  of 
the  fire  warmed  both  their  faces  and  figures  as  if  with 
the  reflection  of  that  long-dead  passion. 

She  made  a  forward  movement,  still  without  speak- 
ing, and  he  took  her  in  his  arms.  "  Because  this  is 
good-bye,  Jack !  "  she  said,  and  their  lips  met. 

"  My  darling,  I  never  thought  I  should  hold  you 
close  to  my  heart  again,"  he  said  brokenly.  She  did 


388  The  Story  of  Eden 

not  know  what  to  say.  She  felt  helpless  under  his  ten- 
derness, for  she  had  nothing  to  give  him  back,  and  yet 
she  was  so  sorry  that  her  heart  ached  as  it  had  not  done 
when  they  parted  before. 

"Jack  dear,  please  don't  talk  about  being  killed," 
she  said  with  childish  nervousness.  "  I  can't  bear  to 
imagine  it.  I  hope  you  will  come  back  all  right,  and 
win  great  honour  and  glory."  It  sounded  a  trite  little 
speech,  but  she  struggled  to  express  the  best  she  could 
wish  for  him.  She  was  folded  in  the  circle  of  his  arm, 
leaning  against  his  broad  chest  as  she  had  leaned  so 
many  times  before,  half  wrapped  in  his  overcoat.  Her 
hand  played  mechanically  with  the  lappet  of  his  mess- 
jacket,  and  she  felt  the  silver  Greyhound  under  her  fin- 
gers. "  I  am  going  Home  very  soon,  you  know.  If  it 
should  happen  that  our  lives  are  so  divided  that  we 
never  meet  again,  will  you  remember  that  I  wished 
you  —  nothing  but  good  ?  " 

"You  have  given  me  nothing  but  good!"  he  said 
generously.  "  I  wish  you  could  have  loved  me  a  little 
longer,  Madge  !  "  Perhaps  he  thought,  even  then,  that 
this  was  only  a  preface  to  a  new  phase,  and  that  in 
the  future  he  might  win  her  back  to  him.  Husbands 
and  wives  always  drifted  apart  after  a  while,  and  then 
another  love  intervened.  He  had  not  allowed  Madge 
time  enough  on  his  first  return,  but  the  re-action  would 
come.  It  was  his  creed. 

"  I  want  to  leave  my  ring  with  you,  darling,"  he  said, 
slipping  the  signet  off  his  finger  into  her  hand.  "  Take 
care  of  it  for  me,  won't  you  ?  One  does  n't  want  to  take 
anything  one  values  to  the  front." 

"  Oh,  Jack,  I  would  rather  not !  And  I  have  a  book 
of  yours  I  meant  to  give  you  back  —  those  verses.  It 
has  your  name  in  it,  and  I  have  never  known  what  to 
do  with  it." 

"  Lock  them  both  up,"  he  said  carelessly.  "  Good' 
bye,  once  more,  my  love ! " 


The  Story  of  Eden  389 

As  he  strained  her  to  him  she  looked  past  him  and 
saw  the  country-side  alight  with  the  red  glare.  She  re- 
membered with  a  shock  that  she  had  once  called  it  the 
Garden  of  Eden  ;  and  now  she  seemed  to  see  Paradise 
alight  with  fire  from  the  mouth  of  Hell.  While  it  still 
dazzled  her,  his  nearing  face  shut  it  out  from  her  eyes, 
and  he  kissed  her,  .  .  .  then  his  retreating  foot  rang 
along  the  stoep,  she  heard  him  speak  to  the  groom  as 
he  took  his  horse,  the  hoof-beats  died  out  into  the  night. 

Farther,  —  farther  yet,  —  the  last  faint  echo  falling  on 
her  sharpened  senses ;  it  was  as  if  she  actually  heard 
this  man  passing  out  of  her  life.  Throughout  he  had 
come  and  gone  like  a  thief  in  the  night,  —  coming  when 
the  birds  sang  in  Eden  and  the  green  morning  was  all 
sun  and  dew ;  going  when  the  land  glowed  with  blood- 
red  light,  the  same  land  that  she  had  known  by  innocent 
day.  To  her  fancy,  the  red  sullen  glare  behind  the 
mountains  was  the  ominous  light  of  the  War,  and  Vibart 
rode  away  into  the  heart  of  it. 


CHAPTER  XX 

"  A  new  Eden-gate 
Shall  open  on  a  hinge  of  harmony 
And  let  you  through  to  mercy.     Ye  shall  fatt 
No  more,  within  that  Eden,  nor  pass  out 
Any  more  from  it.    In  which  hope  move  on, 

Live  and  love,  — 

Doing  both  nobly,  because  low  lily." 

TRUMAN  divided  his  dogs  as  legacies  among  his  friends, 
four  of  the  five  remaining  at  Wynberg  when  their  master 
departed  for  the  Border,  and  rendering  night  hideous 
with  their  howling  for  a  whole  week  before  they  settled 
down,  and  became  resigned  —  for  the  time  being.  True 
had  been  Up  Country  to  shoot,  before,  and  had  returned. 
The  dogs  maintained  their  air  of  being  but  on  a  visit  to 
their  new  owners,  and  declined  to  commit  themselves 
further.  Mrs.  Drysdale,  in  the  largeness  of  her  heart, 
had  taken  two  —  Miss  Anderson  and  Wags.  The  Irish 
terrier  was  the  more  easily  consoled,  by  reason  of  the 
society  of  Eric  and  Jan,  and  devoted  himself  to  them 
and  to  their  toys  forthwith.  Miss  Anderson,  the  colley, 
did  not  care  for  little  boys.  She  took  to  Ossy,  and 
whenever  he  was  at  home  sat  close  to  his  side,  with 
pathetic  eyes  fixed  on  his  face,  until  their  appeal  drew 
from  him  the  comfort  of  sweet  biscuits.  They  were  very 
bad  for  her  teeth,  and  hardly  adequate  to  True ;  but  she 
seemed  to  feel  her  loss  less  while  she  munched.  Ossy 
and  Clarice  stifled  their  consciences  therefor,  and  placed 
the  biscuit  tin  at  her  disposal. 

The  Retriever  found  a  home  at  Simon's  Town,  and 
exchanged  the  Army  for  the  Navy,  whereby  his  inclina- 
tions towards  water  were  fostered,  and  his  aquatic  per- 


The  Story  of  Eden  391 

formances  were  the  pride  of  three  gun -boats  and  the 
little  Club  wherein  all  men  gather,  and  of  which  he  was 
made  an  honorary  member. 

The  wire-haired  Mongrel  went,  by  special  bequest,  to 
Starling. 

The  fifth  dog  was  the  Japanese  animal  before  men- 
tioned, and  was  so  ugly  that  True  decided  to  take  him 
with  him  at  all  risks.  For  he  had  no  personal  attrac- 
tions which  should  recommend  him  to  strangers ;  his 
worth  lay  in  his  heart,  and  that  was  so  entirely  his 
master's  that  it  threatened  to  break  if  they  were  parted. 
The  poor  little  fellow  divined,  with  more  than  human 
quickness,  that  something  unusual  was  in  the  air,  and, 
unlike  his  canine  companions,  followed  True  about  rest- 
lessly, superintending  his  packing,  and  twice  curling 
himself  up  in  a  portmanteau  and  being  very  nearly 
strapped  up  and  stifled,  in  the  hurry.  After  that  True 
decided  to  smuggle  him  through  somehow,  and  he  went. 
I  believe  he  was  in  Kimberley  throughout  the  Siege,  and 
by  a  miracle  escaped  contributing  to  the  sausages  which 
proved  so  sustaining  to  the  troops.  He  came  out  of  the 
siege  very  thin  and  scraggy,  it  is  reported,  having  de- 
veloped an  undying  admiration  for  Mr.  Rhodes.  If  he 
survives,  he  will  probably  be  interviewed  on  his  return 
to  England,  and  would  make  the  fortune  of  a  Music-Hall 
Proprietor.  But  he  will  not  be  exhibited.  This  is 
strictly  unofficial,  and  a  digression. 

Starling  was  out  when  True  personally  conducted  the 
Mongrel  to  Friedenhof,  and  left  him  there.  When  she 
came  in,  she  found  Mrs.  Johnnie  trying  to  sooth  the  dog, 
with  a  line  of  anxiety  between  her  brows,  and  timid 
blandishment  in  her  tone,  of  which  he  took  no  notice. 

"  Oh,  Starling !  "  she  exclaimed  with  relief,  as  her 
daughter  appeared.  "  I  am  so  sorry  you  have  been 
out !  True  has  brought  Romar  for  you,  and  left  him 
here,  and  he  is  nearly  wild.  What  are  we  to  do  with 
him  ?  He  tries  to  get  out  and  go  back  to  Camp,  and 


392  The  Story  of  Eden 

he  will  do  nothing  but  run  under  that  chair  and  growl 
when  I  speak  to  him  !  " 

"  I  '11  show  you,"  said  Starling,  quietly.  "  He  '11  settle 
down  —  after  a  time.  Romar  !  " 

The  Mongrel  advanced  slowly,  his  tail  wagging  faintly. 
He  knew  Starling,  and  besides  he  recognised  the  tone 
of  authority  in  her  voice. 

11  Come  here,  little  fellow  ! "  she  said  kindly.  Romar 
sat  down  at  her  feet  and  looked  at  her.  "  Your  master 
has  gone  away,"  said  Starling.  Romar's  eyes  were  more 
terrible  to  meet  than  a  human  being's  would  have 
been.  "  You  Ve  got  to  stay  behind,  old  boy.  We  're 
all  in  the  same  boat !  "  added  Starling,  inconsequently. 
"  We  've  got  to  wait,  Romar !  " 

Romar  understood  that  word.  When  Starling  rose 
and  whistled  to  him,  he  came  to  heel  and  followed  her. 
He  seemed  to  have  acknowledged  her  as  temporary 
mistress,  until  he  could  make  other  arrangements. 

"  He  '11  be  all  right,"  said  Starling,  reassuringly.  "  Did 
True  come  to  say  good-bye  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  Johnnie,  her  kind  eyes 
filling  with  tears.  "  As  you  and  your  father  were  out,  I 
suppose  he  thought  he  could  n't.  Anyhow  he  said  he 
would  come  in  to-night.  I  can't  bear  parting  with  him, 
Starling !  It  is  like  losing  my  own  son  ! "  said  the 
warm-hearted  woman. 

Starling  drew  up  her  throat  with  the  little  bird  motion 
peculiar  to  her.  She  did  n't  say  anything.  As  she  left 
the  room,  however,  she  spoke  over  her  shoulder  after  her 
usual  fashion.  "  I  'm  going  to  my  den,  Mother.  Come 
along,  Romar !  " 

Mrs.  Johnnie  wiped  her  eyes,  and  looked  after  her 
thoughtfully.  "  What  a  good  thing  it  is  that  there  is  no 
sort  of  nonsense,  or  any  tie  between  her  and  True  ! " 
she  said  somewhat  vaguely.  "  She  would  feel  it  so 
now  ! "  But  she  sighed  half  anxiously,  and  half  regret- 
fully. Mrs.  Johnnie  was  hopelessly  unworldly. 


The  Story  of  Eden  393 

As  they  crossed  the  hall,  Romar  half  paused,  with  a 
wistful  look  at  the  open  hall  door.  "  It 's  no  use, 
Romar,"  Starling  said,  as  quietly  as  if  she  were  speaking 
to  a  rational  being.  "  They  go  to-morrow  —  and  we  're 
to  be  left  behind,"  she  added  to  herself. 

All  that  afternoon  her  own  words  rang  in  her  ears, 
"  They  go  to-morrow."  —  Go,  without  any  tie  between 
her  and  —  anybody.  But  then  she  was  a  rich  man's 
only  daughter,  and  the  Duke's  were  a  proverbially  poor 
regiment.  If  anybody,  one  of  the  Subalterns  say,  had 
been  bold  enough  to  ask  Starling  to  marry  him,  would 
not  he  have  run  the  risk  of  being  dubbed  fortune- 
hunter?  Why,  even  a  —  Captain  might  well  hesitate  to 
put  himself  in  such  a  false  position,  however  disinter- 
ested he  might  really  be,  supposing  that  he  were  not  a 
very  brilliant  match.  Starling  could  quite  appreciate 
any  honest  man's  reluctance  to  offer  her  comparatively 
nothing  —  particularly  on  the  eve  of  War,  with  such  an 
uncertain  future  before  him.  Nevertheless  she  chafed 
against  an  untoward  fate. 

"  It 's  such  nonsense  —  it 's  a  chimera  between  us. 
And  yet,  if  I  were  he,  I  should  n't  speak.  And  a  girl 
can't.  But  I  feel  so  sure  that  I  could  —  I  could  al- 
most —  do  it  myself !  " 

There  had  been  passages  in  the  last  few  weeks  so  far 
justifying  her  that  there  was  really  no  occasion  to  flush 
as  she  did  at  the  brazenness  of  her  own  suggestion. 
There  was  no  one  to  see  her,  however  —  not  even 
Romar,  who  was  consoling  his  grief  with  a  bone  in  the 
stables. 

The  day  wore  on  in  restlessness.  Starling  had  ex- 
pected that  True  would  come  to  dinner ;  but  he  did 
not  appear,  the  truth  being  that  he,  like  his  Colonel, 
was  invited  to  the  Rutlandshires.  Starling,  conscious 
that  the  frock  she  was  wearing  —  it  was  black,  and  made 
her  neck  and  arms  the  whiter  by  contrast  —  had  been 
selected  with  a  purpose,  was  naturally  very  angry  with 


394  The  Story  of  Eden 

herself.  She  was  particularly  bright  and  merry  during 
the  meal,  and  kept  up  quite  a  flow  of  conversation  with 
her  father.  Mrs.  Johnnie  wiped  her  eyes  in  a  surrep- 
titious manner  at  intervals,  as  she  had  been  doing  all 
day.  In  the  wideness  of  her  heart  she  was  experiencing 
the  anxiety  of  all  those  mothers  far  away  in  England 
whose  sons  were  leaving  for  the  Border  on  the  morrow, 
and  fussing  over  them  in  her  tender  fancy.  "  Such  nice 
boys,  most  of  them  !  "  she  thought.  "  And  we  've  known 
them  all  so  well!  Oh,  God  grant  there  will  be  no  fight- 
ing, and  no  desolate  homes  in  consequence  !  —  I  won- 
der if  I  could  have  done  anything  more  for  poor  Miles 
Mowbray,  or  the  Henderson  boy,  or  Mr.  Forrester ! 
Ten  to  one  half  their  socks  need  looking  to,  and  the 
unmarried  ones  have  to  trust  to  soldier  servants.  I  can 
darn  and  mend  and  see  to  clothes,  if  I  'm  good  for 
nothing  else.  And  young  men  are  so  careless  !  "  Mrs. 
Johnnie  had  a  humble  opinion  of  her  own  accomplish- 
ments and  intellectual  powers  ;  but  she  knew  her  heart 
was  large  enough  to  mother  all  the  stray  sons  who  came 
in  her  way. 

The  departing  Regiment  was  so  much  in  her  mind  as 
to  make  her  unusually  abstracted,  which  in  her  sim- 
plicity she  thought  escaped  notice  as  much  as  her  quiet 
tears.  It  did  escape  her  husband's,  because  Starling 
talked  partly  to  cover  it,  knowing  quite  well  all  that  was 
passing  in  her  mother's  mind. 

"  Did  you  say  True  was  coming  in  to  say  good-bye, 
my  dear?"  said  Mr.  Johnnie,  at  the  end  of  dinner. 
"  It 's  getting  rather  late  for  him.  I  hope  he  won't  fail 
to  turn  up  —  I  should  be  really  sore  about  it,  if  True 
did  n't  come  to  say  good-bye.  He 's  been  like  one  of 
the  family ! " 

"  I  am  sure  he  will  come,  dear,"  replied  Mrs.  Johnnie, 
in  a  rather  tremulous  tone.  "  He  said  he  should  turn 
up  to-night  for  certain,  when  he  brought  Romar." 

"  Yes,  but  if  those  scamps  at  Camp  get  hold  of  him 


The  Story  of  Eden  395 

and  make  a  farewell  night  of  it,  they  '11  make  him  drunk 
between  them,"  said  Mr.  Johnnie,  laughing.  "  I  know 
what  these  special  occasions  are  ! " 

"  Never  mind,  Dad.  If  True  is  too  —  too  overcome 
to  drop  in  this  evening,  you  can  go  to  the  Station  to- 
morrow and  see  them  pass  through.  You  will  have  time 
to  shake  hands,  I  daresay,"  said  Starling,  consolingly. 
No  one  noticed  her  rather  curious  tone. 

"  So  I  shall ! "  said  Mr.  Johnnie,  cheering  up.  "  Well, 
I, don't  suppose  he'll  come  to-night."  He  glanced  at 
the  clock  as  he  rose  from  the  table.  "  They  say  there 's 
a  big  bush  fire,  but  I  don't  suppose  we  can  see  much  of 
it  from  here.  It 's  over  the  mountain.  Will  you  come 
out  and  look,  Starling  ?  " 

"  No  thanks,  it 's  too  cold,"  said  Starling  carelessly. 
"  I  am  going  to  write  some  letters."  As  she  departed 
to  her  own  domain,  it  flashed  across  her,  as  it  had  done 
Lanse  Crofton,  that  in  the  event  of  a  big  fire  the  Rut- 
landshire would  be  called  out  to  tramp  it  under.  In 
that  case,  their  farewell  night  would  be  interfered  with 
in  some  sort.  And  what  would  become  of  their 
guests?  .  .  . 

Starling  walked  round  her  "  den  "  like  a  small  lioness. 
Mr.  Johnnie's  innocent  suggestion  of  True  being  too 
well  entertained  to  care  to  come  and  say  good-bye  not 
only  jarred  on  her  taste  by  its  broad  picture  of  him  as 
drinking  too  much  wine,  but  was  a  humiliation  in  the 
light  of  her  wild  thoughts  of  the  afternoon.  He  did 
not  even  care  to  come  and  say  good-bye !  And  she 
had  half  thought  of —  She  paused  before  certain  of  her 
possessions  in  turn,  as  she  came  upon  them  in  her  rest- 
less walk,  and  stared  at  them  blankly.  Major  Yeats' 
assagai,  for  he  also  had  contributed  to  Starling's  col- 
lection of  trophies,  was  decorated  with  the  toys  and 
ribbons  of  the  last  cotillion  which  she  had  led  with 
Captain  Ransom.  She  gave  a  little  sigh  for  the  memo- 
ries that  came  up  as  she  looked  at  the  pretty  rubbish,  — 


396  The  Story  of  Eden 

memories  inextricably  mingled  with  the  sound  of 
Madge's  laughter,  for  she  and  Truman  had  been  the 
next  couple  behind  them.  Truman  again — always 
Truman !  He  had  become  so  interwoven  with  her  life 
in  Wynberg  that  to  fancy  it  without  him  was  an  impos- 
sibility. She  almost  wished  that  the  breach  between 
them,  caused  by  his  defection  to  Madge  during  her  ab- 
sence in  England,  had  never  been  bridged  over.  It 
had  all  been  satisfactorily  explained  and  forgiven  at  the 
Sapper's  ball,  and  since  then  they  had  been  more  intimate 
than  ever.  But  it  only  made  things  worse  now,  —  and 
perhaps  worse  still  in  the  future,  when  he  should  be  gone 
but  a  host  of  little  things  would  remain  to  keep  him  in 
memory.  There  was  the  little  regimental  badge  that  he 
had  given  her  —  the  silver  Greyhound  of  the  Duke's ; 
among  the  whips  and  stick  in  her  rack  was  an  oak  sapling 
which  she  used  more  than  any  of  them  —  that  was  also  his 
gift.  He  had  never  falsified  the  position  by  sending  her 
a  present  whose  value  would  have  made  her  hesitate  to 
accept  it ;  they  were  all  such  simple  little  gifts  that  she 
had  taken  them  with  unthinking  pleasure,  and  they  all 
carried  an  individual  remembrance.  She  need  not  part 
with  any  of  them,  but  she  did  not  dare  to  put  them 
away  out  of  sight  as  relics,  for  fear  any  one  should 
notice  their  absence.  They  must  always  be  there  to 
haunt  her,  her  woman's  fear  of  question  outweighing 
her  very  regret ;  poor  Starling !  she  writhed  as  she 
gazed  round  her  and  found  a  fresh  pang  on  every  hand. 
And  the  cause  of  it  all  was  making  a  farewell  night  of  it 
in  Camp,  and  drinking  too  much  wine  by  persuasion  of 
the  Rutlandshire's  hospitality,  so  that  he  had  not  come 
to  say  good-bye  !  Dad  had  been  quite  correct  in  his 
judgment  of  a  fellow  brute,  no  doubt ;  for  men  always 
knew  one  another,  and  were  all  equally  disgusting.  .  .  . 

"  May  I  come  in,  please  ?  " 

True   stood  smiling  in  the  doorway,  his  quick  step 
having  hardly  made   her  start  before  he  himself  ap- 


The  Story  of  Eden  397 

peared.  He  had  come  down  from  Mess,  and  his  uni- 
form made  a  gay  blot  of  colour  against  the  dark  walnut 
of  the  den.  He  looked  a  handsome  little  fellow,  square- 
shouldered  and  alert,  with  the  beautiful  trained  ease  of 
his  profession  in  every  movement.  Starling's  face  al- 
tered in  the  second  in  which  she  turned  to  greet  him, 
all  the  softness  and  bitter  grief  of  a  minute  since  hidden 
by  a  quick  laugh  that  showed  her  pretty  teeth ;  her  neck 
and  arms  gleamed  white  and  firm  against  her  dinner 
gown,  she  looked  self-possessed,  unobtrusively  conscious 
of  her  own  prettiness,  while  her  brown  eyes  met  his 
with  debonair  candour.  There  was  no  hint  of  a  shadow 
between  them ;  they  smiled  gaily,  man  and  maid,  with 
a  parting  before  them  that  might  last  them  all  their 
lives. 

"  Oh,  I  thought  you  were  unable  to  tear  yourself 
away  from  the  Rutlandshire  !"  said  Starling,  coolly.  "I 
am  glad  you  have  managed  to  turn  up,  True,  —  Dad 
was  quite  disappointed  when  he  thought  you  weren't 
coming." 

"  You  knew  I  should  n't  go  without  saying  good-bye  ! 
I  put  it  off  till  the  last  moment  on  purpose,"  he  said  in 
his  quick,  gentle  voice,  and  his  pretty  smile  was  readier 
than  ever.  He  had  never  moved  his  eyes  from  her  face 
since  he  entered  the  room ;  it  embarrassed  Starling  a 
little  after  the  indignant  accusations  against  him  which 
she  had  made  in  her  own  mind.  As  to  the  —  the  other 
thing,  her  courage  was  scattered  to  the  four  winds,  and 
she  stood  appalled  before  the  mere  vision  of  her  half- 
formed  intention.  Was  it  possible  that  only  this  after- 
noon she  had  thought  that  she  could — that  she  would  — 

"  Have  you  seen  Dad  and  Mother  ?  "  she  said  guiltily, 
shying  away  from  her  own  thoughts.  "There  was  a 
bush  fire,  and  they  went  out  to  look." 

"  I  know.  I  found  them  all  on  the  stoep,  with  Liv- 
ingston and  Drysdale.  They  told  me  you  were  in  here, 
so  I  came  ! " 


398  The  Story  of  Eden 

"Oh,  Mr.  Livingston  has  turned  up,  has  he?  I 
have  n't  seen  him.  Is  it  a  bad  fire  ?  " 

"Pretty  bad.  The  Rutlandshire  have  been  turned 
out,  —  we  had  hardly  finished  dinner.  I  came  straight 
down  then." 

"  It  must  have  been  rather  a  break  up  to  their  guest 
night,"  said  Starling.  "  Well,  do  sit  down,  as  you  have 
come,  and  let 's  have  a  chat,  —  it  is  the  last  we  shall 
have  for  many  a  long  day,  I  suppose.  Do  you  sail  hi 
the  Tyrant  1" 

"  Yes,"  said  True.  He  paused  in  his  usual  fashion, 
and  then  spoke  with  soft  abruptness.  "  We  go  to- 
morrow ! " 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Starling,  vaguely,  but  it  struck 
her  that  she  had  not  known,  to  realise  it,  until  then. 
She  looked  at  True's  smart  figure  and  familiar  face  in 
the  arm-chair  which  had  become  known  as  his  from  his 
constant  occupation  of  it,  and  tried  to  impress  it  on 
herself  that  to-morrow  his  place  would  be  irrevo- 
cably empty,  and  all  the  little  customary  jokes  and 
incidents  between  them  would  gradually  fade  into  hazy 
memory. 

"  I  suppose  there  is  no  chance  of  you  being  ordered 
back  to  Cape  Town?  "  she  said.  "  We  must  have  some 
troops  left  here  ! " 

"  No,  I  don't  think  so.  By  the  time  the  Rutland- 
shire leave,  there  will  be  more  out ;  but  I  fancy  those 
regiments  already  in  the  country  will  be  drafted  to  the 
front  first,  and  come  in  for  the  first  potting,  if  War  is 
declared.  I  am  afraid  all  the  big  fights  will  pass  us 
by!" 

There  came  a  little  pause.  Starling  felt  desperately 
that  had  she  not  had  that  terrible  intention  this  after- 
noon she  would  have  launched  into  regrets,  and  said 
how  sorry  she  was.  It  would  have  been  infinitely  the 
best  thing  to  do,  if  she  could  have  done  it  naturally ;  as 
it  was,  she  felt  as  if  he  were  in  danger  of  guessing  the 


The  Story  of  Eden  399 

reason  of  her  unresponsiveness,  and  yet  she  could  not 
speak  further  of  his  departure. 

"Who  was  dining  with  the  Rutlandshire  as  well  as 
you  ?  "  she  said  at  last. 

"  The  Tracker,  and  Silence,  and  one  or  two  more. 
Silence  is  coming  on  here  presently.  We  are  all  mak- 
ing rather  late  calls,  I  am  afraid ! " 

Another  pause.  "  Oh,  this  is  dreadful ! "  thought  the 
girl,  divided  between  nervousness  and  misery.  She  had 
never  felt  so  much  constraint  with  him  before,  except 
on  that  night  of  the  Sapper's  ball,  of  which  she  had 
spoken  to  Mrs.  Drysdale. 

"  What  a  state  of  mind  I  should  be  in  if  I  had  really 
decided  to  come  to  an  understanding  with  him  some- 
how !  "  she  thought.  "  Thank  Heaven,  he  does  n't 
even  know  that  I  half  intended  to  —  and  he  never  need 
know.  He  will  go  to-morrow.  ...  I  wonder  how  I  shall 
feel  when  he  is  gone,  —  True  gone  !  .  .  .  I  can't  bear 
it!" 

She  jumped  up  without  thinking  of  the  strangeness  of 
her  action,  and  began  walking  restlessly  about  the  room 
again. 

"  I  can't  imagine  you  quite  out  of  this  neighbourhood, 
I  have  got  so  used  to  you,"  she  said,  and  then  added 
recklessly,  "  I  wish  I  were  coming  too !  " 

"  So  do  I !  " 

("Then  why  don't  you  ask  me!"  thought  the  girl.) 
"  I  might  go  through  to  Durban,  and  see  you  again 
there !  What  fun  it  would  be  !  "  she  said  aloud. 

"  It  would  be  very  nice !  "  remarked  True,  rather  ob- 
viously, and  checked  himself  in  the  middle  of  a  sigh. 

"  I  have  a  great  mind  to  volunteer.  I  have  passed 
all  my  Ambulance  exams,  and  Mrs.  Reynolds  is  going 
with  her  husband  as  far  as  Maritzburg  on  the  strength  of 
that,"  said  Starling.  ("  I  am  talking  nonsense,  but  it 
is  only  a  means  to  an  end.  He  won't  do  it,  —  so  I 
must.")  "Don't  you  think  I  could  come?"  She  felt 


400  The  Story  of  Eden 

rather  wild  and  light-headed,  and  was  fingering  the  little 
silver  hound  lying  on  the  writing  table  as  she  spoke. 

"  You  know  you  can't  —  " 

"  Can't  I  ?  Then  I  suppose  I  must  be  content  with 
writing  to  you.  But  letters  might  never  reach  you,  and 
then  you  would  think  I  had  n't  written.  .  .  .  Do  you 
know,  True,  I  found  out  something  to-day  —  " 

He  did  not  speak.  Perhaps  her  words  had  surprised 
him  too  much.  Starling  turned  round  and  faced  him 
with  desperate  courage.  He  was  still  looking  at  her, 
and  she  rushed  into  her  next  speech. 

"I  found  out  that  I  was  —  very  fond  of  you — and 
we  Ve  been  such  good  friends  that  it  does  n't  matter 
my  telling  you,  and  if  you  don't,  —  I  mean  if  you  only 
like  me  a  little  please  say  so,  and  don't  think  you 
must  n't !  Only  I  thought  it  was  a  pity,  —  and  it 's  for 
all  our  lives  perhaps,  and  we  might  drift  apart  —  and 
supposing  you  were  killed,  we  should  have  had  nothing 

—  and  if  you  really  cared,  and  you  did  n't  like  to  say  so 

—  I  wanted  —  I  meant  —  " 

If  only  his  eyes  had  not  been  so  very  large  and  liquid  ! 
If  only  he  would  look  away!  Starling  became  more 
and  more  involved  as  she  went  on,  and  at  last  her  voice 
dropped  to  a  distressed  pause,  and  her  own  eyes  filled 
with  tears  of  shame  and  desperation. 

"True,  don't  you  understand?"  she  said  almost  an- 
grily. "  Can't  you  ask  me  to  marry  you  ?  Oh,  if  you 
say  you  can't,  I  shall  simply  go  away  somewhere,  much 
further  than  the  Border,  and  it  does  n't  matter  ! " 

True  had  had  no  real  chance  to  say  a  word  ;  but  he 
had  listened  with  all  his  senses,  and  they  were  many. 
He  had  understood  the  incoherent,  stammering  speech 
perfectly  well,  long  before  the  end,  and  much  better 
than  Starling  did  herself;  but  he  had  not  been  able  to 
break  in  quick  enough  to  help  her.  He  got  up  from 
his  chair,  however,  and  came  towards  her;  he  could 
not  interrupt  the  stumbling  sentences,  but  he  held  out 


The  Story  of  Eden  401 

his  arms,  and  Starling  literally  fell  into  them.  Perhaps 
at  the  moment  he  had  nothing  to  say,  for  in  flash  he  saw 
before  him  a  coming  half  hour  in  which  Mr.  Johnnie 
sat  on  one  chair  and  he  on  another  in  the  wilderness  of 
the  empty  drawing-room,  while  he  haltingly  explained 
his  own  beautiful  lack  of  fortune  and  utter  inadequacy 
as  a  match  for  a  rich  man's  only  child.  There  were 
debts,  too,  —  not  many,  thank  Heaven !  but  enough  to 
make  him  "  comfortably  embarrassed,"  as  Forrester  said. 
True's  feelings  were  sobered  with  the  question  of  honour, 
and  his  reputation  as  a  gentleman  if  he  took  the  advan- 
tage thrust  into  his  hands ;  but  he  was  hardly  iron- 
souled  enough  to  resist  the  moment's  happiness,  and 
not  to  show  his  appreciation  of  the  white  arms  round  his 
neck  by  taking  every  opportunity  that  the  position 
offered  him.  Half  blinded  by  her  own  tears,  and  the 
suddenness  of  it  all,  Starling  rested  where  she  was  for  a 
full  minute,  —  sixty  long  joyous  seconds  of  which  True 
made  good  use ;  then  she  disgraced  herself  by  hiding 
her  face  against  his  shoulder,  and  sobbing  with  all  her 
heart. 

"  Oh,  how  could  I  do  it?  Oh,  I  wish  I  had  n't !  " 
she  said  inconsequently.  The  irrationality  of  feminine 
nature  which  weeps  over  an  accomplished  design  was 
beyond  Truman's  comprehension,  but  with  characteristic 
wisdom  he  did  not  struggle  with  the  problem.  He 
gave  himself  up  to  administering  comfort  without  words 
until  the  sobs  subsided. 

"Do  you  think  me  very  mad? "she  asked  with  a 
final  catch  in  her  breath,  and  a  little  shake  of  herself. 
"  There !  I  am  not  going  to  cry  any  more,  anyhow. 
True,  what  do  you  think  of  me  ?  " 

"  The  arm-chair  is  big  enough  for  two,"  said  Truman 
with  serene  tact.  "  I  'm  very  small !  "  As  he  tucked 
himself  comfortably  down  beside  her,  he  added,  "  I 
have  so  often  wanted  to  ask  you  to  try  sharing  it ! " 

He  looked  at  her  with  his  beautiful  expressive  eyes, 
26 


402  The  Story  of  Eden 

and  Starling  accepted  the  deeper  meaning  hidden  be- 
hind the  arm-chair. 

"  It  seems  rather  a  pity  you  did  n't,"  she  remarked 
ruefully.  "  Here  you  are  going  away  to-morrow,  and 
if  you  had  only  had  a  little  more  sense  it  need  n't  have 
been  left  to  me  to  do  at  the  last  moment  !  " 

"  I  'm  very  sorry,"  said  True,  meekly.  There  was  a 
little  air  of  appropriation  about  Starling's  taking  to  task 
that  he  much  appreciated.  "  Had  n't  we  better  make 
the  most  of  what  time  we  have?"  he  added  sugges- 
tively. Now  the  arm-chair,  although  large  for  one,  was 
too  narrow  for  two  to  allow  of  anything  but  excessively 
close  quarters,  and  the  black  frock  and  the  red  coat 
were  getting  hopelessly  entangled,  when  a  voice  in  the 
doorway  caused  a  wild  scramble,  before  they  could 
extricate  themselves  and  realise  that  Mr.  Dodd  was 
regarding  them  in  ludicrous  amazement. 

"  Well,  I  '11  be  damned  ! "  said  the  Millionaire,  blankly. 
He  gazed  at  the  guilty  couple,  and  took  in  Starling's 
crimson  face  and  Truman's  obvious  discomfiture,  as 
he  stood  in  the  doorway,  looking  stouter  than  usual  in 
his  dress  clothes,  and  with  a  sense  of  injury  pervading  his 
whole  person.  The  dominant  thought  in  both  Starling's 
and  Truman's  minds,  however,  was  not  compunction  or 
abasement,  but  an  earnest  desire  to  know  how  long  he 
had  been  present,  and  what  he  had  seen  and  heard. 

"  So  mean  of  him  to  come  in  on  us  like  that ! " 
thought  Mr.  Johnnie's  dutiful  daughter.  "  Why  could  n't 
he  have  knocked  ?  " 

He  had,  several  times,  but  they  had  been  too  well 
entertained  to  notice  it. 

"  Beastly  awkward !  "  thought  True,  so  nonplussed 
for  the  moment  that  he  stood  silent,  pulling  his  mous- 
tache, and  embarrassment  making  his  eyes  darker  than 
their  wont.  "  What  fools  we  must  have  looked !  "  then 
he  recovered  himself,  and  turned  to  Mr.  Johnnie  with  his 
his  usual  serenity.  "  Did  you  want  us  ?  "  he  said. 


The  Story  of  Eden  403 

"  Yes,  I  did,"  said  Mr.  Johnnie,  bluntly,  and  staring 
from  one  to  the  other  in  a  way  that  expressed  more  than 
any  words  could  have  done.  "  We  are  going  to  play 
pool.  Will  you  both  come  ? " 

"In  one  moment  —  going  to  brush  my  hair,"  mur- 
mured Starling,  making  a  dash  for  the  door.  Her  face 
was  still  very  rosy,  and  there  was  an  unusually  shy  at- 
mosphere about  her  whole  figure.  As  she  passed  her 
father  in  the  doorway,  she  glanced  up  with  the  soft 
brown  eyes  that  were  still  moist.  "  I  'm  so  happy ! " 
she  whispered  with  a  hurried  embrace,  and  rushed  away, 
leaving  Mr.  Johnnie  breathless  from  her  onslaught. 

"  Upon  my  word !  "  he  exclaimed,  as  she  disappeared. 
"  Starling  is  really  too  violent,  she  makes  a  dash  for  me 
and  forgets  how  stout  I  am.  Well,  Captain  Truman  —  " 
He  paused,  and  looked  at  his  victim.  Truman  drew 
himself  up  instinctively,  with  the  set  of  his  shoulders 
which  generally  came  on  Parade.  His  wide  steady  gaze 
never  faltered  before  Mr.  Johnnie's. 

The  Millionaire  suddenly  stepped  forward  and  grasped 
him  by  the  hand.  "  Look  here,  True,"  he  said  huskily, 
"  I  see  how  it  is,  and  —  and  I  'm  grateful  to  you  for  put- 
ting that  look  into  my  little  girl's  face,  for  she  is  evi- 
dently as  happy  as  she  ever  will  be  in  this  life.  It 's  all 
right,  my  boy  —  I  know.  You  '11  write  to  me  to-morrow, 
or  when  you  have  time.  We  won't  spoil  your  last  even- 
ing with  business.  I  sha'n't  be  hard  on  you,"  added 
Johnnie  Dodd,  with  his  high  laugh,  —  it  was  the  sweetest 
music  Truman  had  ever  heard.  "  And  I  'm  damned  if 
I  would  n't  rather  have  you  as  a  son-in-law  than  any  man 
in  the  damned  world,  for  I  believe  you  're  about  the 
best  fellow  in  the  whole  damned  Army." 

Mr.  Johnnie  was  excited,  and  the  damns  flew.  Tru- 
man never  really  remembered  what  followed ;  but  he  had 
a  distinct  impression  of  shaking  hands  heartily,  and 
feeling  far  more  heady  than  he  ever  did  after  a  farewell 
night  at  Mess. 


404  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  Now,  we  '11  go  to  the  billiard-room,"  said  Johnnie, 
blowing  his  nose  officiously.  "  I  wonder  where  that 
rogue  of  a  girl  has  got  to  ?  A  mean  skunk,  I  call  her, 
deserting  like  that  and  leaving  you  to  bear  the  brunt 
of  it  all!" 

"  I  can't  hear  anything  against  Starling,  sir !  "  Truman 
reminded  him  in  his  usual  soft  tones.  "  Shall  I  switch 
off?" 

As  he  extinguished  the  light,  and  followed  his  host, 
he  added  inwardly,  "  What  a  fool  I  was  not  to  do  that 
half  an  hour  ago !  It 's  a  relief  he  knows  without  my 
telling  him,  and  we  've  got  the  worst  of  it  over,  but  — 
I  would  rather  he  had  n't  seen  quite  so  much  1 " 


CHAPTER  XXI 

4'  Yea,  I  plucked  the  fruit 
With  eyes  upturned  to  Heaven,  and  seeing  there 
Our  god-thrones  as  the  tempter  said — not  God. 
My  heart,  -which  beat  then,  sinks.     The  sun  hath  sunk 
Out  of  sight  -with  our  Eden. 

Night  is  near.1' 

PERHAPS,  of  all  months,  November  is  the  most  beautiful 
in  Wynberg.  September  and  October  are  the  real 
spring,  but  they  are  still  chilly,  and  the  mornings  and 
evenings  are  treacherous.  November  breathes  a  fore- 
taste of  summer,  and  yet  the  effect  of  the  winter  rains 
is  still  making  the  land  cool  and  green.  It  is  fresh  and 
dewy  and  exquisite,  and  the  earth  blooms  and  sings  with 
a  great  rejoicing. 

Margery  stood  at  the  gate  of  the  Rosary  one  morning 
in  November,  and  looked  over  the  land  before  her  with 
the  eye  of  benediction,  for  their  boat  sailed  on  the  mor* 
row,  and  she  was  going  Home.  She  thought,  as  was 
inevitable,  of  her  first  introduction  to  Wynberg,  and  the 
impression  made  on  her  mind  by  the  sparkling  sunny 
scene  before  her.  And  she  wondered  when,  if  ever,  she 
should  see  it  again.  For  the  Colony  —  the  green,  smil- 
ing Colony,  where  Nature  laughed,  and  flowered,  and 
multiplied  as  always  —  was  convulsed  with  the  War, 
and  men  and  women  looked  upon  their  very  homes  with 
unacknowledged  doubt,  as  on  something  which  might 
be  taken  from  them,  and  from  which  they  might  come 
to  flee.  Glencoe  and  Elanslaaghte  had  been  fought,  the 
isolation  of  Ladysmith  was  imminent,  and  the  first  Army 
Corps  was  only  on  its  way  out.  In  two  short  months 
the  red  storm  of  rebellion,  and  slaughter,  and  disaffec- 


406  The  Story  of  Eden 

tion  had  swept  down  from  North  to  South,  and  shaken 
the  apparently  firmly  established  settlement  to  its  founda- 
tions. The  fitful  social  life  round  about  Cape  Town  still 
went  on  — Margery  had  called  at  Government  House 
only  a  few  days  since,  for  the  household  had  returned 
to  Newlands ;  but  it  seemed  to  her,  as  to  most  of  the 
women  in  those  days,  a  horrible  mockery  of  the  old 
friendly  festivities,  punctuated  with  the  news  of  men's 
deaths,  —  men  who  a  few  short  months  since  were  doing 
all  this  too,  calling  on  the  Governor,  riding  out  to  Tokai, 
betting  at  the  gymkanas  and  the  Race  Meetings,  dining 
at  this  or  that  house,  which  now  mourned  them  as 
friends  sacrificed  in  the  first  moves  of  the  War,  as  pawns 
are  sacrificed  in  a  game  of  chess. 

There  was  no  outward  alteration  in  the  Rosary,  —  no 
appearance  of  desolation  such  as  besets  houses  whose 
owners  are  leaving  them,  as  a  rule.  Lanse  had  let  the 
place  furnished,  and  the  only  difference  to  Margery's 
eyes  was  in  the  removal  of  her  little  personal  belongings, 
photos  which  had  some  of  them  already  become  relics, 
books,  and  pictures.  She  had  had  one  last  tennis  after- 
noon, following  the  lead  of  other  women  who  kept  the 
ball  rolling  bravely,  and  went  the  usual  round  as  though 
they  had  no  secret  fears,  but  kept  their  serene  faith  in 
the  Empire.  That  tennis  had  been  marked  in  Margery's 
mind  by  hearing  then  for  the  first  time  that  Wynberg 
Camp  was  to  be  turned  into  a  hospital ;  it  came  upon 
her  with  a  shock,  and  afterwards  the  afternoon  was 
always  inextricably  associated  in  her  mind  with  the  news, 
which  she  overheard  two  of  her  guests  telling  each  other. 
In  the  same  way  a  dinner  party  at  Friedenhof  stood  out 
in  her  mind  as  the  occasion  of  hearing  that  Teddy 
Barton  had  been  wounded,  and  it  was  feared  that  he  would 
lose  his  arm ;  and  the  first  cricket  match  appeared  to 
her  a  forlorn  gathering,  so  many  familiar  faces  were  ab- 
sent, and  was  only  noticeable  for  the  news  of  a  skirmish 
in  which  the  British  had  lost  heavily,  three  men  she 


The  Story  of  Eden  407 

knew  being  amongst  those  killed.  She  had  a  shrinking 
fear  of  going  out,  for  dread  of  what  she  should  hear,  and 
yet  she  went,  because  to  stay  at  home  was  unendurable. 

The  pony  and  cart  came  round  to  the  gate  for  the 
last  time,  and  Margery  went  out  slowly  and  got  in  beside 
the  Kaffir  boy,  whose  broad  brown  face  was  gloomy  with 
the  coming  parting.  He  had  liked  his  service  with  the 
Baas  and  the  Missus,  and  the  absence  of  his  usual  flash- 
ing smile  and  display  of  white  teeth  struck  Margery 
afresh  with  a  sense  of  loss.  Even  this  little  drive  was 
one  of  those  every  day  occurrences  which  she  was  doing 
"  for  the  last  time,"  and  Henry  knew  it  as  well  as  she. 
The  postman  came  up  to  the  gate  just  as  they  were 
starting,  and  she  bent  down  and  took  her  letters  from 
him,  conscious  that  her  eyes  were  moist,  and  hoping  that 
he  would  put  it  down  to  her  correspondence.  News, 
alas  !  brought  tears  more  often  than  not  in  those  days. 

The  letters  were  both,  as  it  happened,  in  the  same 
hand,  —  from  Miles  Mowbray,  as  Margery  saw  with  the 
spasm  at  her  heart  that  the  Natal  postmark  brought  even 
to  the  least  interested  among  those  who  watched  the 
War.  There  had  been  some  delay  in  transmission  which 
accounted  for  both  arriving  together.  The  first  letter 
was  a  long  one,  and  was  dated  October  2  ;th.  Margery 
read  it  with  eager  intent,  while  Henry  drove  her  soberly 
along  the  leafy  red  lanes  in  which  the  sunlight  lay  in 
golden  patches,  and  the  hedges  were  growing  blue  with 
plumbago  again.  They  were  going  Campwards,  for  a 
farewell  visit  to  the  Hospital ;  but  the  familiar  road  slid 
by  unheeded  as  Margery  devoured  her  letter  — 

DEAR  MARGERY,  —  I  suppose  I  ought  to  say  Mrs. 
Crofton,  but  I  sha'n't,  and  you  can't  scold  me  all  this  way 
off!  —  Many  and  various  have  been  our  wanderings  since 
I  last  wrote  to  you,  and  I  have  been  in  action  — but  I  can't 
say  I  felt  in  the  least  excited;  it  was  just  like  an  ordinary 
Field  day.  You  know  we  were  sent  down  to  reinforce 
Maritzburg,  to  our  deep  disgust,  as  fighting  was  expected 


408  The  Story  of  Eden 

here  (Ladysmith).  But  on  Thursday  we  were  recalled  from 
Colenso,  where  they  had  kept  us  waiting  about,  and  to  our 
astonishment,  when  we  fell  in,  we  started  on  the  road 
back  the  way  we  came.  Half  our  battalion  was  escort  to 
baggage,  and  as  we  did  n't  fall  in  till  5  A.  M.,  I  had  a  little 
more  sleep  than  I  expected,  and  a  mouthful  of  bread. 
Major  Reynolds,  who  was  in  command  of  the  baggage  train, 
threw  out  a  small  infantry  advance  guard,  and  told  us  what 
was  happening  before  we  started,  and  that  we  should  prob- 
ably encounter  the  enemy,  for  it  seems  we  were  used  as  a 
decoy  duck,  and  that  it  was  hoped  the  Boers  would  think 
that  a  large  force  had  marched  from  Ladysmith,  and  attack 
us.  They  did  n't,  though.  I  was  commanding  the  advance 
guard,  and  if  there  had  been  an  engagement  I  should  have 
got  something  ;  but  I  am  sorry  to  say  we  saw  nothing  of 
the  enemy.  We  got  back  to  Ladysmith  about  10  A.  M.  on 
Monday  morning,  and  during  our  absence  the  battles  of 
Dundee  and  Elanslaaghte  had  been  fought.  Oh,  I  am  sick, 
and  so  is  every  one  else !  We  got  orders  again  on  the 
Monday  evening,  and  on  Tuesday  morning  we  fell  in, 
reached  the  rendezvous,  and  were  despatched  as  second 
line.  About  five  miles  out  we  saw  a  group  of  men  on  the 
crest  of  a  ridge  between  high  hills,  about  three  thousand 
yards  or  more  away,  and  we  were  looking  at  them  through 
field  glasses  and  wondering  who  they  were,  when,  puff ! 
came  some  smoke,  and  we  then  realised  that  it  was  the 
enemy  in  position,  and  that  they  were  shelling  our  cavalry. 
The  Rutlandshire,  who  were  leading,  immediately  deployed 
and  formed  for  attack,  and  as  they  were  advancing  a  shell 
plumped  down  less  than  one  hundred  yards  from  our  lead- 
ing company,  but  did  n't  burst.  Our  men  simply  choked 
with  delight,  and  then  the  guns  advanced,  and  the  enemy, 
who  had  got  the  range  beautifully,  put  a  shell  straight  into 
them.  I  expected  to  see  several  killed  and  wounded,  but 
luckily  the  shell  again  did  n't  burst,  and  nobody  was  hurt. 
One  Officer  had  his  haversack  carried  away  and  his  horse 
wounded,  but  no  further  damage  was  done.  Then  we  got 
the  order  to  get  under  cover,  and  we  marched  our  forces 
absolutely  unmolested  behind  a  hill,  deployed  under  cover, 
and  advanced  to  within  two  thousand  yards,  range  behind 
the  guns,  with  the  bullets  whisking  all  round  us.  One 


The  Story  of  Eden  409 

tmllet  struck  between  Hard  Lines  and  myself,  and  two  more 
came  in  quick  succession,  one  passing  on  my  left,  and  the 
other  in  front  of  us.  I  saw  old  Yeats  pounding  away  with 
his  battery;  but  we  lay  mightily  low,  I  can  tell  you. 
Strangely  enough  as  I  said,  I  did  n't  feel  in  the  least  ner- 
vous or  worried,  though  it  was  the  first  time  I  had  been 
under  fire,  and  only  bobbed  once,  and  that  when  a  bullet 
passed  so  close  to  my  ear  that  I  felt  the  wind  of  it.  When 
we  got  up  to  the  guns,  we  lay  down ;  but  I  strolled  up  to 
the  front  and  watched  the  shells  exploding  over  the  enemy's 
position.  It  was  very  interesting ;  you  could  see  the 
Boers  plainly,  coming  out  by  twos  and  threes,  and  then 
when  a  good  many  had  collected,  bang  would  go  one  of  our 
guns,  and  a  shell  would  burst  right  among  them,  and 
they  'd  scuttle  back  under  cover.  Our  guns  played  on 
their  position  for  six  hours,  and  we  stayed  there  and  looked 
on.  Two  horses  were  killed  within  a  few  yards  of  where  I 
was,  and  I  hear  that  Teddy  Barton  was  wounded.  The 
men  were  quite  unconcerned,  and  were  chatting  and  smok- 
ing all  the  time.  Shortly  after  2  p.  M.  the  order  came  to 
retire,  and  anything  more  casual  and  happy-go-lucky  I 
never  saw.  Our  men  halted  under  effective  artillery  fire  to 
get  water  from  the  cart,  and  as  the  shells  came  screaming 
overhead,  they  kept  saying,  "  Oh,  lor !  There  's  another 
rocket,  Mother  !  "  The  enemy's  big  gun  was  silenced  early 
in  the  day,  and  they  kept  their  other  guns  out  of  sight  and 
under  cover  until  we  retired.  Very  little  damage  was  done 
by  their  artillery  fire ;  it 's  most  odd  that  they  don't  seem 
able  to  get  the  shells  to  burst.  I  believe  we  dusted  the 
Boers  a  good  deal,  but  of  course  we  can't  tell,  as  they 
cleared  out  as  soon  as  we  did,  and  it  is  believed  that 
they  Ve  gone  to  Acton  Holmes,  which  is  about  thirty  miles 
from  here.  On  Wednesday  we  did  nothing,  but  to-day  we 
are  ordered  out,  or  rather  are  told  to  be  in  readiness  to 
march  if  necessary  to  cover  the  retreat  of  the  Dundee 
column.  I  am  on  outpost  duty  to-night.  We  fall  in  at  5 
P.  M.  to  support  the  others.  Do  write  to  me  as  long  as 
communication  is  open.  It 's  going  to  be  a  long  business, 
and  goodness  knows  when  I  shall  see  you  again,  as  you 
will  be  going  Home  soon  I  suppose.  I  Ve  written  you 
a  very  shoppy  letter,  but  I  don't  suppose  you  will  find  fault 


41  o  The  Story  of  Eden 

with  that,  as,  after  all,  news  that  is  reliable  is  most  likely 
very  scarce  down  your  way. 

If  you  write,  as  I  am  sure  you  will,  do  tell  me  of  the 
movements  down  in  the  Cape.  I  expect  I  shall  receive 
your  letters  very  irregularly,  but  I  do  look  for  them  so. 
You  know  I  can't  help  thinking  of  you  awfully,  still.  I 
hope  you  did  n't  mind  what  I  said  to  you  on  that  day  we 
rode  together  to  Tokai,  and  the  day  I  left.  Sometimes  I  'm 
afraid  you  did,  though  you  were  always  so  sweet  and  good 
about  it.  But  you  know  I  did  n't  mean  anything  except  to 
warn  you,  and  just  to  tell  you  how  I  thought  of  you,  and 
that  I  could  n't  bear  to  hear  your  name  spoken  lightly  for 
that  very  reason.  I  've  got  your  photo  with  me.  It  smiles 
at  me  so  sweetly  —  just  as  you  used  to  do.  Dearest  Madge 
(you  don't  mind  my  saying  that  this  once,  do  you  ?),  I  want 
to  tell  you,  in  case  anything  happens  to  me  in  this  cam- 
paign, that  it  made  me  awfully  happy  to  love  you,  and  I 
look  up  to  women  all  the  more  for  having  known  you,  and 
seeing,  through  you,  how  good  and  sweet  they  can  be.  I 
thought  I  must  just  tell  you  this. 

Good-bye  —  I  must  turn  in  now,  I  'm  so  awfully  sleepy, 
and  I've  got  to  be  up  early,  as  well  as  on  that  beastly 
outpost. 

Yours  always, 

MILES  MOWBRAY. 

Margery  folded  the  letter  almost  reverently,  and  put 
it  away  with  the  tears  hanging  on  her  lashes  and  making 
the  slits  of  blue  between  them  as  misty  as  the  blue 
mountains  which  quivered  and  scintillated  in  the  heat. 
Mowbray's  faith  in  her,  and  devotion  to  the  idol  he  had 
made,  was  always  a  pang  to  her.  She  almost  thanked 
God  that  he  had  never  known  that  it  had  feet  of  clay. 
She  hoped  he  never  would  know.  The  second  letter 
was  very  short  —  merely  a  scrap  written  a  day  or  so 
previously,  and  referring  to  a  possible  engagement,  the 
news  of  which  had  not  yet  reached  Wynberg,  — 

DEAREST  MADGE,  —  As  we  are  expecting  a  fight  on 
Saturday  —  or  possibly  later  —  we  fell  in  at  one  last  night, 
and  were  marched  back  to  Camp,  and  are  now  surrounded 


The  Story  of  Eden  411 

on  three  sides  by  Boers.  We  move  out  to  the  attack  to- 
morrow. You  know  I  don't  think  much  of  the  Tracker  in 
private  life,  but  I  must  own  he  's  a  splendid  soldier.  I  'm 
glad  he  's  leading  us  rather  than  Massy,  one  of  our  Majors 
who  came  out  lately,  and  has  gone  with  some  of  our  fellows 
to  Kimberley.  They  are  acting  as  mounted  infantry,  and  I 
suppose  you  know  that  True  is  with  them  ? 

As  I  write  I  can  see  the  Boers  massing  on  the  hills  not 
two  thousand  yards  away,  and  to-morrow  I  hope  we  are 
going  to  do  for  them.  Please  excuse  pencil,  as  there  is  no 
kind  or  sort  of  thing  in  the  way  of  pen  or  ink  here.  Good- 
bye for  the  present.  I  don't  anticipate  being  killed  in  the 
least,  but  if  I  am,  you  won't  quite  forget  me,  will  you, 
Madge  ?  Yours, 

MILES  MOWBRAY. 

Henry  pulled  up  in  front  of  the  Mess,  now  converted 
into  the  Officers'  wards.  Margery  had  arranged  to  meet 
Starling  there,  and  found  she  had  arrived  first,  and  was 
standing  on  the  stoep  as  she  alighted. 

"  Where  is  Mr.  Crofton  ? "  she  said,  as  they  shook 
hands. 

"  He  had  to  go  to  the  wine  farm  to  make  some  final 
arrangements.  I  have  just  heard  from  Miles  Mowbray, 
Starling." 

"  Have  you  ?  Of  course  I  have  n't  heard  from  True 
since  Kimberley  was  invested."  Starling  smiled  a  little ; 
it  was  a  very  tender  smile,  if  a  sad  one.  "  He  was  ter- 
ribly hard-worked  when  he  last  wrote,  poor  old  fellow  ! 
He  said  he  was  very  footsore  and  weary,  and  had  only 
had  three  meals  in  as  many  days.  They  had  only  just 
been  drafted  off  there,  you  know,  and  I  think  they  set 
them  to  work  at  once.  I  don't  know  what  they  were 
doing,  for  I  understood  they  were  to  be  mounted  Infan- 
try ;  but  he  said  he  had  been  having  no  breakfast  or 
lunch,  only  dinner  each  day,  consisting  of  bread  and 
stew,  and  when  he  did  get  a  meal  he  was  absolutely 
famished.  That  sounds  almost  as  if  they  had  been  on 
march,  does  n't  it  ?  " 


412  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  Poor  True  !  It  seems  to  me  that  the  troops  out 
here  have  had  the  brunt  of  it.  They  always  said  they 
should  get  the  'dirty  work '  you  know." 

"  I  am  not  certain,"  said  Starling,  doubtfully.  "  Dad 
says  there  will  be  a  lot  of  nasty  fighting  for  the  Home 
contingent." 

"Miles  says  that  Ladysmith  is  nearly  surrounded. 
Oh,  Starling,  I  can't  bear  the  look  of  this  place  now! " 

For  they  had  entered  the  Mess,  and  were  standing  in 
the  long  room  where  they  had  so  often  danced,  and  had 
gay  little  suppers  after  theatricals  and  concerts  at  Camp. 
It  was  to  be  the  Officers'  ward,  the  long  table  where  the 
Duke's,  and  the  Rutlandshire,  and  many  other  regi- 
ments had  displayed  their  mess-plate,  was  gone  now; 
down  the  room  ran  rows  of  beds,  empty,  waiting! 
There  were  no  Officers  in  hospital  yet,  but  the  men  had 
come  down  from  Durban  in  the  Jclunga  to  relieve  the 
hospitals  there,  and  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  were  in 
the  tents  round  about. 

"  Good-morning,  Nurse,"  Starling  said,  as  a  quiet  fig- 
ure entered.  "  We  have  brought  some  flowers." 

"  Oh,  is  it  you,  Miss  Dodd  ?  I  was  wondering  who 
it  could  be  !  I  saw  the  carts  drive  past  our  quarters." 

"  Have  you  many  patients  ? "  Madge  steadied  her 
voice  to  ask.  The  sight  of  those  asking  beds  had  un- 
nerved her. 

"  No  bad  cases,  I  am  glad  to  say.  We  have  a  good 
many  men  here,  and  are  expecting  many  more.  We 
can  put  seven  or  eight  in  a  tent,  you  know." 

"  I  hope  it  will  not  come  to  that ! "  Starling  put  in 
quickly. 

"  There  have  been  big  fights  last  Thursday  and  Fri- 
day it  is  thought,"  said  the  nurse,  with  quiet  significance. 
"  We  have  no  Officers  as  yet.  I  think  they  keep  them 
up  there,  as  they  have  none  too  many,  and  if  they  re- 
cover they  will  be  wanted  for  duty  again  at  once." 

"  They  seem  to  be  picking  off  the  Officers  as  before," 


The  Story  of  Eden  413 

Starling  said  slowly.  Her  lips  were  rather  white,  but 
she  still  smiled  at  the  nurse. 

"  I  am  afraid  so." 

Madge  put  her  flowers  into  the  nurse's  hands  sud- 
denly, and  went  out  of  the  Mess.  She  drew  a  long 
breath  as  of  relief  when  she  found  herself  on  the  stoep 
looking  across  the  quiet  Camp  dotted  with  little  white 
tents.  There  were  no  bugles  sounding  now,  no  band 
flinging  its  merry  music  across  the  startled  air,  hardly 
any  soldiers  to  be  seen.  It  was  as  quiet  and  primitive 
as  the  heart  of  the  country  in  England. 

Starling  came  out  of  the  Mess  after  a  few  minutes ; 
she  had  stopped  to  talk  to  the  nurse.  "  What  was  it, 
Madge  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Nothing  —  only  those  rows  of  beds  —  waiting  ! 
And  I  've  danced  there  so  often  —  oh,  Starling,  it  is  like 
dancing  over  your  partners'  grave !  I  can't  think  how 
one  goes  on  with  one's  personal  life  at  times  like  these  ; 
but  that  one  does,  makes  it  all  the  more  strange  and  un- 
real to  me.  I  feel  it  can't  be  true  !  —  those  men  we  Ve 
known  so  well  —  we  've  all  been  so  intimate  —  they  were 
just  like  everybody  else,  with  the  same  chances  in  life. 
And  now  to  think  of  them  dead  —  shot  down  suddenly. 
And  they  don't  even  count  much,  and  the  whole  great 
horrible  War  goes  on  as  if  such  details  as  a  few  lives  were 
nothing.  It  is  just  as  if  the  Nation  were  a  huge  Jugger- 
naut which  is  rolling  over  us,  and  there  is  nothing  to 
save  us ! " 

"  Of  course  if  the  skies  fell  at  every  sore  heart's  desire, 
there  would  be  no  world  !  "  said  Starling,  a  little  tiredly. 
"  I  suppose  we  have  never  realised  till  now  how  awful 
war  is.  That  is  what  makes  it  seem  so  intolerable 
to  us." 

"  Poor  Starling,  it  is  worse  for  you  than  for  me !  I  am 
very  selfish.  But  people  talk  of  nothing  but  the  War, 
and  it  makes  me  so  unsettled  I  don't  know  what  to  do. 
I  frivol  about,  and  try  to  amuse  myself  and  other  people, 


414  The  Story  of  Eden 

and  all  the  time  I  feel  as  if  my  world  had  come  to  an 
end  ! " 

"  Mine  very  nearly  has,"  said  Starling,  with  a  sudden 
stir  of  passion  in  her  soft  voice.  "  In  spite  of  all  I  have, 

—  my  own  dear  people,  and  my  friends,  and  everything, 

—  life  seems  so  empty  and  full  of  heartache.     I  didn't 
know  I  saw  so  much  of  True ;  but  now  he  's  gone,  it  is 
all  so  quiet !     No  one  rings  at  the  bell  —  no  one  comes 
along  the  stoep  —  there  seems  to  be  a  great  lull  since 
August." 

Madge  slipped  her  hand  inside  the  arm  nearest  her, 
with  a  little  impulsive  caress.  She  had  no  comfort  to 
offer  save  that  of  the  tenderness  of  human  touch.  Star- 
ling stood  silent  for  a  moment ;  then  she  suggested 
visiting  one  of  the  tents  where  she  had  been  before,  to 
see  a  poor  fellow  who  was  paralysed.  Madge  turned 
sick  at  the  sights  and  sounds  of  suffering,  but  she  kept 
it  to  herself  and  bravely  followed  Starling  through  the 
tents,  seeing  in  her  imagination  all  the  familiar  faces  of 
the  men  she  had  known  distorted  with  just  such  suffer- 
ing, picturing  them  crippled  for  life  in  just  the  same 
way.  She  was  trembling  whan  at  last  they  walked  back 
to  the  spot  where  they  had  left  the  carts,  and  paused  to 
shake  hands  with  the  nurse. 

"  This  is  Mrs.  Crofton's  farewell  visit,"  Starling  said. 
"  She  is  going  Home.  I  shall  come  next  week,  Nurse." 

"  I  wish  you  a  good  voyage,  Mrs.  Crofton  !  "  said  the 
nurse,  cordially.  "  And  I  wish  you  would  hurry  Eng- 
land up  a  little  when  you  get  there !  There  has  been  a 
great  outcry  over  the  slowness  of  the  Home  Authorities, 
has  n't  there,  Miss  Dodd?" 

"  Yes,  but  the  reinforcements  are  really  on  their  way 
now,"  Starling  acknowledged.  "  And  the  Indian  troops 
were  arriving  on  the  i  ith.  What  a  lot  of  excitement  the 
commandering  of  the  gold  by  the  S.  A.  R.  caused 
did  n't  it  ?  Dad  said  Cape  Town  was  like  a  beehive 
when  the  news  came  down." 


The  Story  of  Eden  415 

"Lanse  thought  they  would  do  that,"  Madge  put  in. 
"  But  it  was  a  bold  step.  I  wonder  if  any  news  will  get 
through  to-day.  The  lists  after  the  battles  do  take  such 
a  time  to  reach  us.  I  am  afraid  I  shall  not  hear  before 
I  go." 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  only  lived  for  the  paper,"  said  Starling 
honestly.  "  And  especially  the  later  editions.  I  know 
Dad  must  bring  some  news,  so  I  simply  wait  for  him  at 
the  Station  whenever  he  goes  into  Cape  Town.  Good- 
bye, Madge !  I  shall  see  you  on  board,  to-morrow." 

"Yes,  and  don't  be  late,  Starling.  One  seems  to 
have  so  little  time  before  the  boat  starts.  Home, 
Henry ! " 

The  little  familiar  word  struck  her  afresh  as  she  said 
it.  It  was  again  "  for  the  last  time."  She  would  not 
give  that  order  and  drive  back  to  the  pretty  old  house 
for  many  a  long  day  after  to-morrow.  Her  eyes  were 
dim  as  she  turned  round  in  the  cart  to  look  at  the  Camp 
on  the  sunny  slope, — a  farewell  look  that  tried  to  impress 
every  detail  on  her  memory.  Then  the  cart  swung  out 
into  the  deep  red  lanes  with  the  thick  trees,  just  in  full 
foliage,  meeting  overhead.  Hill  and  valley,  stream  and 
meadow,  deep  lanes  and  garden-land  and  familiar 
houses,  —  they  flashed  past  merrily  in  the  sunshine,  to  the 
bowling  of  the  swift  wheels  over  the  warm-hued  earth. 
Margery  looked  upon  her  Paradise  as  Eve  looked 
upon  the  visible  Eden  when  she  left  it ;  but  she  knew 
in  her  heart  that  she  had  forfeited  it  long  since.  It  was 
only  the  outward  and  tangible  sign,  this  passing  out  of 
the  East  Gate,  and  the  Angel  with  the  flaming  sword 
was  visible  to  her  alone,  as  he  had  been  visible  all 
along.  Yet  she  realised  an  irrevocable  change,  even  in 
the  relations  of  outward  things  with  her  existence.  She 
might  return  here  some  day  ;  but  it  would  never  be  quite 
the  same,  for  there  was  an  alteration  in  herself. 

"  This  is  the  end  —  of  that  chapter  at  any  rate,"  she 
thought.  "  Can  any  other  be  as  sweet,  as  full  of  life 


4i 6  The  Story  of  Eden 

and  terror  and  tragedy?  I  have  suffered,  but  then  I 
have  also  lived.  Perhaps  Clarice  was  right  —  without 
that  terrible  experience  to  develop  me,  I  might  have 
missed  Lanse,  and  yet  —  and  yet  —  oh,  what  would  I 
not  have  given  to  have  had  no  former  experience,  to 
have  been  all  his !  I  don't  know  about  the  wages  of 
sin  being  death,  but  they  are  certainly  pain  !  Sometimes 
I  feel  as  if  I  had  not  been  true  to  either  man  —  as  if  I 
were  not  even  worthy  of  Jack. 

"  '  I  have  been  faithful  to  thee,  Cynara,  in  my  fashion  1 ' 

My  fashion  has  always  been  an  uncertain  thing,  blown 
about  by  every  impulse,  not  even  true  to  itself !  —  I 
wonder  why  I  felt  no  remorse  for  kissing  Jack  at  the 
end  !  —  it  was  only  an  impulse,  like  all  the  rest,  and  yet 
I  don't  feel  as  if  that  had  been  any  disloyalty.  Per- 
haps I  am  coming  to  realise  that  human  nature  is  so  ruled 
by  impulse,  and  the  force  of  an  unexpected  crisis,  that 
it  has  hardly  any  free-will  at  all.  One  can  only  flee 
from  temptation.  It  is  no  good  thinking  that  one  is 
superior  to  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  able  to  resist. 
After  this  War,  if  there  is  any  chance  of  meeting  him 
again,  I  will  escape  somehow ;  I  won't  lay  myself  open 
even  to  the  influence  of  pity.  ...  I  must  give  Lanse 
Miles's  letter  to  read.  He  will  be  interested.  Oh,  no, 
I  don't  think  I  can  though,  —  I  will  read  it  to  him  — 
all  but  the  end.  I  can't  read  him  the  end.  .  .  .  Yes, 
last  days  are  queer  things  always,  —  I  feel  that 
sense  of  ending  a  chapter  very  strongly  on  me  now  — 
and  such  a  chapter !  There  can  never  be  another 
like  it ! " 

The  perfect  day  rounded  and  drooped  to  an  equally 
perfect  night.  Margery  wandered  out  of  the  house 
after  dinner,  and  stood  at  the  gate.  The  garden  was 
full  of  roses,  full  of  the  scents  and  sounds  of  summer, 
and  the  fireflies  were  a  strange  sight,  they  filled  the  dark 
with  flying  jewels.  Summer  had  many  associations  for 


The  Story  of  Eden  417 

Margery  that  winter  had  not,  and  the  garden  at  night 
had  a  pang  beyond  all  telling,  though  it  was  not  haunted 
with  absolute  associations  like  that  at  Vine  Lodge. 
Lanse  had  been  giving  some  last  instructions  to  the 
men  ;  but  he  joined  her  after  a  few  minutes,  and  came 
and  leaned  on  the  gate  beside  her.  His  voice  heralded 
him,  for  he  was  singing  a  bar  of  a  song  as  he  came,  and 
the  beautiful  liquid  notes  floated  across  the  still  air  and 
gave  Margery  an  additional  sense  of  pleasure.  Lansing 
had  a  really  exceptional  voice,  with  that  strange  quality 
in  it  like  the  vibration  of  a  violin  string. 

"  But  youth  is  wayward,  and  the  world  is  wide,  — 
You  're  sure  to  wander  sometimes  from  my  side !  " 

he  sang  as  he  reached  the  gate,  and  stood  beside  her. 
"Tired,  dearest?" 

"  No,  Lanse." 

"Sorry  to  leave?" 

"  A  little  —  I  'm  taking  the  best  of  it  with  me, 
though."  She  turned  quickly,  with  a  secret  greed  of  the 
treasure  of  his  love,  and  touched  him  half  timidly,  as  if 
to  assure  herself  of  his  actual  presence.  His  arm  stole 
round  her  waist,  and  she  laid  her  head  against  his 
breast 

"  What  a  romantic  couple  we  are,  spooning  in  the 
starlight  after  being  married  the  best  part  of  a  year  ! "  he 
said. 

"I  'm  glad  there  is  no  moon — I  like  the  starlit  nights 
better,"  she  said.  "  Lanse  —  I  was  thinking  —  before 
you  came  out  —  " 

"Well?" 

"  Supposing  we  had  never  cared  for  each  other?  We 
might  not  have  done,  you  know.  We  might  just  have 
drifted  past,  as  I  have  seen  hundreds  of  men's  and 
women's  lives  drift,  partly  because  they  had  n't  time  to 
know  each  other,  I  think  sometimes.  Life  changes  so 
here,  you  know  —  the  men  come  and  go,  and  the  girls 
27 


4i 8  The  Story  of  Eden 

go  Home,  and  liking  doesn't  always  develop  into 
loving.  We  might  have  been  like  that." 

"  You  did  your  best  for  it,  anyhow  !  How  often  did 
you  say  No  ?  " 

"Oh,  I  thought  — "  The  pain  of  her  refusal  came 
back  across  all  the  after  happiness,  and  stung  her  with 
its  reason.  "I  thought  you  were  going  to  care  for 
Starling,  and  I  was  dreadfully  jealous  !"  she  said  more 
lightly. 

"  I  never  cared  for  any  one  but  you,  and  I  never 
meant  to  marry  any  one  but  you.  Did  n't  you  know 
that?" 

"  I  thought  you  had  given  it  up !  " 

"  I  never  give  things  up,"  said  Lanse,  and  he  spoke 
the  truth.  "  If  you  had  married  another  fellow  —  well, 
then  I  should  probably  have  tried  to  wreck  his  home  ! 
I  know  I  'm  a  beast  —  but  I  never  pretended  to  be 
a  saint." 

Margery  gasped.  The  queer  clashing  of  coincidences 
in  the  suggestion  of  his  words  made  her  giddy.  "  Don't 
let's  talk  of  what  might  have  been,"  she  said  inconsist- 
ently. "  It  is  not  so  —  and  we  are  happy." 

He  laughed  a  little  in  his  full  content.  "  Yes,  and  we 
will  go  on  proving  marriage  not  a  failure,  eh  ?  "  he  said. 
"  I  say,  Madge,  —  I  hope  —  supposing  there  were  con- 
tingent Circumstances  ?  I  should  like  it,  should  n't  you  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked,  really  puzzled  ;  but 
as  he  turned  his  head  and  kissed  her  she  understood. 
"  Oh  !  "  she  said  a  little  blankly.  The  possibility  of 
adding  to  the  perfect  circle  which  made  their  married 
life  and  held  them  only,  had  not  troubled  her  of  late. 
At  first  she  had  had  to  face  it  as  an  inevitable  possibility, 
but  had  soon  thrust  it  into  the  background  of  her  mind 
for  reasons  she  would  hardly  own  even  to  herself;  as 
long  as  the  absolute  and  accomplished  fact  was  not  an 
immediate  consideration,  she  was  content  to  put  it  by  as 
a  thing  of  the  future,  and  had  succeeded  in  laying  the 


The  Story  of  Eden  419 

spectre  of  her  own  doubts  and  fears.  Now  Lanse's 
direct  reference  brought  it  up  before  her  again ;  she 
asked  herself,  in  the  shock  of  the  moment,  if  she  were  fit 
to  be  the  mother  of  his  children.  It  seemed  a  more 
solemn  responsibility  than  to  be  his  wife,  long  as  she 
had  hesitated  over  that,  even.  "  Am  I  good  enough  ?  " 
she  asked  in  her  humiliated  knowledge  of  her  past  self. 
"  For  all  my  efforts,  and  my  honest  life  in  the  present, 
does  not  that  dead  self  rise  up  to  prove  what  I  can  be  ? 
Oh,  supposing  —  supposing  —  I  gave  some  dreadful 
weakness  of  my  own  nature  to  an  unborn  human  being  ! 
Or,  supposing  my  influence  were  unconsciously  bad  !  " 
.  .  .  Her  own  words  recurred  to  her  —  "  I  do  not  know 
about  the  wages  of  sin  being  death,  but  they  are  cer- 
tainly pain !  " 

"  I  suppose  every  man  looks  forward  to  having  chil- 
dren —  sometime,"  said  Lanse,  with  beautiful  indefinite- 
ness.  "  Would  you  mind,  dearie  ? " 

"  Not  if  you  wished  it,  Lanse." 

She  spoke  slowly,  facing  the  inevitable.  Her  elastic 
nature  recoiled  from  the  morbid  dread  of  those  remorse- 
ful thoughts,  and  she  comforted  herself  with  the  frank 
prayer  that  she  might  do  her  best 

"You  wouldn't  be  afraid,  my  darling?"  That  was 
the  husband  whispering  to  the  wife  under  the  eternal 
boughs  of  Paradise,  as  it  was  in  the  beginning  and  ever 
shall  be ;  and  the  anxiety  of  his  love  challenged  the 
courage  of  hers. 

"  No,  dear,  of  course  not  We  will  hope  it  will  be  so 
—  as  you  wish  it." 

The  wistful  reservation  passed  him  by.  Only  the 
silence  and  sweetness  of  the  night  closed  them  round, 
and  the  Southern  stars  flashed  overhead,  and  the  fireflies 
made  trails  of  light  across  the  garden.  Then  Madge 
spoke  again,  as  if  her  words  came  out  of  the  beauty 
of  it  all. 

"  Lanse,  do  you  know  I  once  called  Wynberg  the 
Garden  of  Eden?" 


420  The  Story  of  Eden 

"Did  you?    Why?" 

"I  thought  it  looked  like  it.  We  are  going  away 
from  Paradise  into  the  outer  World  —  that's  all." 

"We  can  leave  the  gate  ajar  —  and  come  back." 

"Some  one  else  might  go  in  instead,  in  the  mean 
time  ! "  said  Margery,  laughing.  "  What  nonsense  I  am 
talking  !  —  But  it  is  safer  to  lock  the  Gates  of  Paradise, 
even  if  one  hopes  to  return  there  !  " 

As  Margery  had  feared,  the  lists  of  killed  and  wounded 
in  the  last  fight  had  not  come  through  by  the  next  morn- 
ing. The  paper  could  give  few  details,  and  with  a  sigh 
she  put  her  anxiety  aside,  as  not  to  be  answered  as  yet, 
unless  the  news  reached  Madeira  by  cable  from  England 
before  they  touched  there. 

It  was  a  fair  day,  with  a  little  scented  wind.  Wynberg 
laughed  behind  them  as  they  left  it ;  Cape  Town  sim- 
mered and  hummed  in  the  heat,  for  the  heart  of  exist- 
ence was  here,  and  humanity  was  astir  with  the  War. 
The  very  docks  had  a  crowded,  unusual  appearance, 
with  the  troop  ships  and  the  merchantmen  and  the 
Niobe  on  guard.  Lanse  and  Margery  were  too  busy, 
and  too  much  caught  into  the  whirl  of  things,  to  have 
time  for  regret.  They  went  on  board  early,  and  by 
luncheon-time  their  guests  had  mostly  assembled. 
Johnnie  Dodd  and  Starling  had  come  out  to  see 
them  off,  as  well  as  Polly  Harbord,  and  Beau  Living- 
ston looking  as  exquisitely  cool  as  though  dust  and  heat 
and  the  mental  trouble  in  the  air  did  not  exist;  and 
Joey  Tullock  from  Simon's  Town,  who  was  ramping  to 
take  the  Skate  round  to  Durban,  and  the  Drysdales,  and 
Blanche  Cunningham,  more  strikingly  decorative  than 
ever  in  the  light  of  day,  and  bearing  the  Professor's  good 
wishes,  which  were  more  welcome  than  his  presence 
would  have  been ;  and  Cissie  Redmayne,  who  was 
attended  by  a  Rondebosch  man  whom  Wynberg  only 
knew  slightly,  in  place  of  her  lawful  husband,  on  duty 


The  Story  of  Eden  421 

in  Cape  Town,  —  all  the  pleasant,  careless  people  whom 
Madge  had  known  well  during  the  last  few  years,  and 
who  had  been  part  and  parcel  of  the  ephemeral,  shifting 
life  which  she  was  suddenly  and  strangely  leaving. 
Their  irresponsibility  was  hardly  darkened  even  by  the 
undeniable  reality  of  pain  and  heroism  and  death  and 
disaster,  which  the  War  had  thrust  amongst  them ;  only 
now  and  then  the  light  chatter  would  diverge  to  some 
incident  relating  to  a  man  at  the  front  whom  all  had 
known,  and  who,  it  might  be,  was  known  to  no  one 
now  save  the  Angel  of  Death,  and  then  a  shadow  swept 
over  the  bright  faces,  as  the  wind  swept  the  shadow  of  a 
cloud  over  the  blue  heights  and  depths  of  the  mountains. 
The  Croftons'  party  filled  a  table  to  themselves  at  lunch- 
time,  and  made  merry,  while  the  band  played  the  National 
Anthem  and  Rule  Britannia,  and  the  champagne  fizzed 
to  the  health  of  the  troops,  and  the  women's  laughter 
belied  the  tears  not  far  from  their  eyes. 

"  There  is  nothing  so  abominably  merry  as  one  of 
these  leave-takings  in  Cape  Town  docks ! "  said  Beau 
Livingston,  when,  after  luncheon,  he  and  Madge  were 
leaning  on  the  wooden  rail  of  the  promenade  deck, 
watching  the  Kaffirs  bringing  in  the  last  piles  of  luggage, 
and  dusky  salesmen  trying  to  dispose  of  the  skins  and 
karooses  which  they  spread  on  the  stones  of  the  quay  to 
tempt  passengers  leaning  over  the  boat's  side.  "  I  should 
like  of  course  to  cry  bitterly  —  May  I  smoke  ?  Thanks  ! 
it  will  sustain  me  —  but  out  of  feeling  for  you,  I  refrain." 

"  Cheer  up  !  we  may  meet  next  in  London.  Starling 
told  me  you  regretted  my  absence  when  she  was  Home, 
—  I  am  treasuring  that  up  for  the  future.  Are  you 
coming  Home,  Beau?" 

"  No,  I  think  not.  I  shall  wait  and  see  it  through. 
Besides,  I  am  curious  about  the  —  er  —  distribution  of 
prizes  afterwards.  I  have  great  confidence  in  friend 
Rhodes." 

11  Supposing  the  prizes  went  to  the  Boers  !  " 


422  The  Story  of  Eden 

"  What  a  shocking  idea !  Kruger  as  head  boy  rather 
than  Milner  !  Where  is  your  loyalty  ? " 

"  Entirely  with  Sir  Alfred  —  as  every  one's  must  be 
who  has  been  here  and  witnessed  what  he  has  done. 
How  quiet  and  dignified  he  has  been  through  it  all !  " 

"  And  yet,"  said  Beau,  taking  the  cigar  daintily  be- 
tween two  fingers  of  his  right  hand,  and  knocking  the 
ash  off  with  a  third,  "  when  you  reach  home  you  will 
probably  find  the  Radical  papers  clamouring  for  his 
instant  removal,  and  pointing  out  the  things  he  has  not 
done,  and  the  things  he  has,  which  will  be  equal  of- 
fences unto  them  !  The  Unionist  Press  may  not  follow 
suit;  but  it  is  more  than  probable  that  being  6,000 
miles  off,  they  will  be  more  positive  as  to  the  right  way 
of  governing  us  than  we  presume  to  be  ourselves.  Don't 
get  excited  over  it,  pray ! " 

"  I  am  not  excited,  —  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  ! 
But  I  should  like  to  censure  the  whole  Press,  if  it  does  n't 
back  up  Sir  Alfred  !  " 

"I  thought  as  much.  What  a  beautiful  winter  sun- 
set !  You  will  find  none  better  in  England." 

"  Beau,  you  are  enigmatical,  and  I  don't  understand 
you.  Mr.  Johnnie,  don't  you  agree  with  me  that  Sir 
Alfred  is  the  man  of  the  moment?" 

"  I  wish  he  'd  proclaim  Martial  Law  down  here  ! " 
said  Johnnie  Dodd,  grimly.  "  Perhaps  now  Buller  is 
out  he  will.  Got  a  light,  Livingston?  My  cigar 's 
out." 

As  Beau  supplied  the  match,  Mrs.  Drysdale  took  his 
place  beside  Madge  for  the  moment.  "  We  all  want  to 
talk  to  you,"  she  said.  "  But  Beau  possesses  a  perfect 
genius  for  absorbing  the  object  of  interest  in  these  cases. 
It  is  the  careful  way  in  which  he  has  trained  his  own 
selfishness,  I  believe.  Look  at  Cape  Town,  Madge ! 
did  you  ever  see  it  prettier?" 

"  Don't !  I  hate  leaving  the  sunshine  and  the  colour, 
and  my  own  home.  The  garden  is  looking  so  lovely 


The  Story  of  Eden  423 

just  now,  Clarice.  I  believe  my  heart  will  always  be  in 
Africa." 

"It  is  a  beautiful  year.  I  have  never  seen  the  trees 
greener,  or  the  vineyards  more  brilliantly  fresh,  or  the 
plumbago  bluer." 

"  We  rode  out  nearly  to  Hout's  Bay  the  other  even- 
ing, — "  Madge  paused,  and  a  curious  look  crossed  her 
face.  "I  shall  never  forget  it.  The  view  was  so  in- 
tense and  yet  so  soft,  and  the  last  sunbeams  over  the 
Nek  were  just  kissing  the  top  of  the  Devil's  Peak.  It 
all  looked  so  pretty,  —  no,  pretty  is  n't  the  word !  That 
applies  to  English  fields  and  hedgerows.  It  was  so  full 
of  life  and  warmth.  It  was  Africa ! " 

"  Madge,  how  long  do  you  feel  you  have  lived  since 
you  came  out  here  ?  " 

"  A  lifetime.  How  I  have  altered,  have  n't  I,  and 
grown  !  I  think  I  was  in  swaddling  bands  that  day  you 
found  me,  crying  over  Anthony's  crossness,  and  the  bad 
cooking,  and  the  ugly  furniture  !  " 

"  It  was  soon  remedied,  as  I  told  you  it  would  be. 
But  the  change  does  not  lie  in  the  greater  power  to 
reconstruct  and  manage  things  as  you  wish,  does  it? 
though  that  is  something  too.  You  have  altered,  — 
are  you  sorry  ?  " 

"  I  think  not. "  Her  eyes  strayed  away  among  the 
crowd  on  the  wharf,  —  the  Kaffirs,  the  loafers,  the 
Officers  of  the  boat  superintending  the  arrival  of  the 
Mails.  "  I  have  been  married,  you  see,  —  and  I  have 
Lanse !  " 

"  Ah  !  I  told  you,  you  would  find  that  men  were  not 
all  brutes  and  fools.  Have  you  proved  it  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  think  I  have." 

"  Then  the  experience  was  worth  while,"  said  Mrs. 
Drysdale,  in  a  rather  strange  fashion.  "  And  the  coming 
to  Africa,  and  the  lifetime  crammed  into  the  three  years, 
and  the  mixing  with  men  and  women  under  different 
conditions,  is  all  part  of  the  learning  how  to  live.  But 


424  The  Story  of  Eden 

I  trembled  for  you  once,  Madge.  It  is  sink  or  swim 
here  ! " 

"  Perhaps  it  is  both,  —  sink  first,  find  the  use  of  your 
hands  and  feet,  and  swim  afterwards.  Men  learn  it  Up 
Country.  We  women  seem  to  learn  it  in  the  stress  and 
strain  of  new  conditions  of  social  life.  And  yet  —  the 
pain,  Clarice  !  How  one  pays  for  all  knowledge  in 
this  world !  One  learns  real  life  by  means  of  tears." 

"  I  say,  Madge,"  said  Blanche's  voice  behind  them. 
"  Have  you  heard  that  Ladysmith  is  cut  off  ? " 

"  I  supposed  it  would  be,"  said  Margery,  turning 
round.  "I  heard  from  Miles  Mowbray  yesterday." 

"  They  are  pigging  it  dreadfully,"  said  Blanche.  "  For- 
rester wrote  to  me,  not  long  ago.  He  said  they  loathed 
the  place.  It 's  more  lively  now  though,  I  suppose  !  " 

"  They  will  learn  to  be  thankful  for  small  mercies  be- 
fore they  have  done  !  "  said  Mrs.  Drysdale.  "  How 's 
the  Professor,  Mrs.  Cunningham?" 

"  Liverish,"  said  Blanche,  briefly.  "  I  advised  him  not 
to  come  to-day,  under  the  circumstances.  He  sent  you 
his  love,  Madge." 

"  That  I  'm  sure  he  did  n't,  Blanche  !  Anthony  never 
did  such  a  thing  in  his  life.  I  daresay  he  was  polite 
enough  to  hope  that  I  should  n't  be  seasick,  and  to 
cheerfully  prognosticate  that  I  should  ! " 

Blanche  smiled  sleepily.  "You  ought  to  have  a 
good  time  anyhow,"  she  said.  "I  like  the  men  on 
this  boat.  I  hope  we  shall  be  coming  Home  in  the 
Spring,  Madge.  I  don't  see  why  we  shouldn't." 

"  If  any  one  could  make  Anthony  unearth  himself 
and  come  Home,  I  daresay  you  could.  It  was  more 
than  I  ever  accomplished,  anyway.  But  I  hope  you 
will  come,  Blanche.  Tell  Anthony  I  '11  look  him  out 
a  Flat  near  the  British  Museum." 

"  I  say,  you  girls,"  broke  in  Johnnie  Dodd,  —  he  had 
a  genial  way  of  grouping  all  womankind  known  to  him 
under  this  head,  —  "  Beau  tells  me  tea  is  going  in 


The  Story  of  Eden  425 

the  Saloon.     If  you  want  any,  you  '11  have  to  look  it  up. 
The  Mails  always  precede  '  Any  more  for  the  shore.'  " 

"  Very  well,  you  come  too,"  Clarice  said  airily,  tucking 
her  hand  into  his  arm.  "  Are  you  coming,  Madge  ?  I 
dare  n't  leave  Mr.  Johnnie  about,  or  he  will  be  getting 
himself  lost  in  the  Captain's  cabin,  and  have  to  make 
the  voyage  as  a  stowaway." 

"  One  minute  —  "  said  Madge,  hurriedly.  "  Is  n't 
that  an  early  edition  ?  There  's  a  boy  there  with  papers. 
Do  get  me  one,  Beau?" 

Livingston  raised  his  hand  to  the  boy,  and  made  a 
motion  to  a  steward.  In  the  pause  that  followed,  Madge 
felt  Mrs.  Drysdale  and  Blanche  move  into  the  deck- 
house with  Johnnie  Dodd.  They  were  still  talking,  and 
the  chatter  of  the  groups  all  round  her,  the  passengers 
joining  the  boat  and  their  friends  seeing  them  off  and 
giving  last  messages,  still  continued.  But  neither  she 
or  Beau  said  a  word.  She  was  even  thinking,  as  the 
steward  returned  and  put  the  thin  flimsy  sheet  into  her 
hands,  that  when  communication  was  re-opened  Jack 
Vibart  would  write  to  her  again,  and  that  she  dreaded 
receiving  his  letters.  He  had  written  once  since  he  left, 
a  gay  confident  letter  that  troubled  her,  and  he  had  said 
that  he  should  write  again  soon.  That  he  had  not  done 
so  was  due,  no  doubt,  to  his  responsible  position  and 
the  many  duties  it  entailed  on  him.  She  wished  that 
she  had  not  taken  his  ring ;  that  also  had  been  simple 
impulse  like  all  the  rest  of  it.  She  had  packed  the 
little  brown  poetry  book  in  her  cabin  trunk,  with  some 
idea  of  throwing  it  overboard  and  getting  rid  of  it  at  last 
in  that  way.  The  ring  was  at  that  moment  in  her 
pocket.  She  had  slipped  it  in  there  before  starting, 
having  forgotten  to  lock  it  up,  as  he  had  advised,  in  the 
hurry  of  packing  and  departure.  Why  had  she  ever 
taken  it  1  How  foolish  it  was,  —  it  would  mislead  him, 
and  make  him  think.  .  .  .  she  must  write  from  England 
and  explain  that  she  meant  nothing  now ;  she  would  re- 


426  The  Story  of  Eden 

peat  what  she  had  said  at  Camp  at  the  Tennis  Tourna- 
ment, only  more  gently.  It  was  so  unnecessary  to 
inflict  pain  when  there  was  so  much  one  could  not  help 
in  the  world.  She  need  not  be  rough.  Perhaps  she 
need  not  write  at  all,  if  he  did  not.  .  .  . 

She  had  turned  the  sheet  to  look  for  the  long  delayed 
list  of  casualties.  It  was  headed  with  his  name. 

Beaumont  Livingston,  holding  the  paper  with  her, 
read  over  her  shoulder :  "  Killed  —  Colonel  John 
Mortimer  Vibart.  The  Duke's.  Sec.  Lieu.  Miles 
Mowbray."  Then  followed  a  list  of  wounded,  George 
Tennyson  and  Scott  Murray  being  amongst  the  names. 
"  Poor  Jack  ! "  was  all  he  said. 

Margery  took  her  hand  slowly  from  the  paper.  Her 
eyes,  still  idly  straying  amongst  the  crowd  on  the  quay, 
saw  only  the  spectre  of  her  fear  during  the  bush  fire, 
and  again  yesterday  morning  in  the  Hospital.  Jack  was 
dead !  —  poor,  gay,  handsome  Jack,  as  innocent  of 
morals  as  he  was  of  physical  fear  !  "  A  splendid  soldier  ! " 
as  Mowbray  had  said.  The  tribute  from  his  junior 
Officer,  killed  in  the  same  skirmish,  rose  to  her  mind. 
Even  Miles  Mowbray's  death  hardly  affected  her  at  the 
moment  in  the  same  way.  She  was  sorry  —  so  sorry  that 
she  felt  she  could  have  cried  for  him.  But  not  for 
Jack,  because  it  was  so  impossible.  "Jack  is  dead.  Jack 
is  dead,"  she  repeated  to  herself  stupidly.  "  I  knew 
this  might  happen  any  moment.  And  I  can't  believe  it 
now."  This  man  who  had  been  her  lover  —  in  the 
shock  of  his  death  the  truth  stood  bare,  stripped  of 
decency  or  prevarication,  —  whom  she  had  felt  in  some 
sort  she  looked  down  upon  for  being  so  utterly  human, 
so  material  —  had  suddenly  passed  above  her  into  the 
majesty  and  elusiveness  of  death.  Jack  was  dead. 
How  could  blame  or  tenderness  touch  him  now  ?  New 
resolves  on  her  part  affected  him  no  longer.  He  was 
dead  —  she  need  not  trouble  herself. 

She  had  forgotten  Livingston  entirely.    Quietly,  almost 


The  Story  of  Eden  427 

mechanically,  she  slipped  her  hand  into  her  pocket,  and 
took  out  the  heavy  seal  ring  which  even  to  handle  had 
made  her  shrink  an  hour  ago,  it  was  so  reminiscent  of 
him  and  memories  happier  forgotten.  She  held  it  in 
her  hand  for  a  moment,  looking  at  it  curiously;  then 
she  dropped  it  over  the  boat's  side,  into  the  sullen  dark 
water  of  the  docks.  In  the  bustle  and  confusion  of  the 
moment  nobody  saw  her  but  the  man  at  her  side,  and 
he  was  watching.  Her  face,  perhaps,  told  him  many 
things  of  which  she  was  unconscious ;  the  blue  eyes 
fixed  on  her  read  through  the  veil  of  silence  as  undeni- 
ably as  the  Rontgen  rays  do  through  flesh,  until  he  saw 
the  skeleton  beneath.  He  took  the  cigar  from  his  lips 
again,  and  knocked  the  ash  off  thoughtfully  against  the 
wooden  rail  of  the  boat. 

Margery  turned  from  him  as  though  she  did  not  know 
he  was  there,  and  made  an  uncertain  step  towards  the 
deckhouse. 

"  —  and  so  my  friend  shot  the  tiger  in  the  jungle  ! " 
said  Beaumont  Livingston  to  himself. 

"  Any  more  for  the  shore  ! " 

Mr.  Johnnie  and  his  two  companions  reappeared 
breathlessly,  and  the  next  two  minutes  were  a  confusion 
of  handshaking  and  farewell  good  wishes. 

"  Take  the  paper  —  there  is  bad  news  in  it,"  Madge 
said,  thrusting  it  into  Mrs.  Drysdale's  hand.  "  I  do 
not  want  it  left.  Good-bye,  Clarice  !  " 

They  kissed  each  other.  ...  As  the  gangplank  was 
drawn  up,  a  long  cheer  broke  from  the  crowd  on  the  quay, 
and  as  Margery  lent  on  the  rail  she  saw  her  friends  stand- 
ing there  together  in  the  sunshine,  Beau  Livingston's  up- 
right grey-clad  figure,  and  beautiful  mocking  face,  as  he 
waved  his  hat,  Clarice  looking  up  at  the  boat,  Blanche 
with  the  light  on  her  red  hair,  Starling,  Johnnie  Dodd ; 
.  .  .  then  she  knew  that  Lanse  had  come  and  was  leaning 
beside  her,  and  the  boat  was  moving  slowly,  slowly  out 
of  the  docks.  "Have  you  heard  the  news,  Madge?" 


428  The  Story  of  Eden 

he  said.  "Yes,  I  know,"  she  answered.  "  I  am  awfully 
sorry.  Poor  fellows  ! "  he  added  .  .  .  farther,  —  farther 
yet  —  the  great  boat  swinging  round,  and  the  sun  going 
down.  Some  one  spoke  to  Lanse,  and  he  moved  away, 
but  the  comfort  of  his  presence  remained  with  her.  .  .  . 
A  space  of  blue  sea  between  shore  and  ship,  the  pas- 
sengers leaving  the  promenade  deck,  and  going  below, 
as  if  it  were  all  oveY.  .  .  .  Margery  leaned  on  the  rail  and 
watched  the  sunset,  and  the  line  of  the  retreating  shore. 
Cape  Town  was  still  sharply  visible  in  the  warm  dying 
light,  a  city  of  big  buildings,  of  strength  and  beauty 
and  life,  with  the  velvet  mountain  standing  sentinel  be- 
hind it  ...  One  of  the  Officers  of  the  boat  hovered 
near  her,  wishing  to  speak  and  begin  an  acquaintance 
to  be  worked  up  on  the  voyage.  She  turned  and  smiled, 
with  the  assured  position  of  a  pretty  woman.  As  he 
began  to  talk  to  her,  she  contrasted  herself  curiously 
with  the  shy  girl  who  had  come  out  three  years  before. 
She  had  been  more  eager  for  pleasure  and  distraction 
then,  but  she  had  not  found  it  so  ready  to  her  hand  as 
now.  She  had  developed.  She  knew  her  own  worth, 
and  was  sure  of  herself. 

"  Look  your  last  at  Cape  Town,  Mrs.  Crofton !  "  said 
the  Officer,  suddenly. 

The  sun  was  going;  as  she  turned  and  looked  he 
touched  the  mountains.  The  ship  held  steadily  on  her 
outward  way,  the  purple  and  sunset  water  widening 
between  her  and  the  shore.  Overhead  was  an  empty  blue 
sky  with  one  star  —  the  evening  star  —  hanging  in  the 
void.  The  light  went  lower,  the  Earth  turned  by  just 
so  much  of  a  hair's-breadth  as  dropped  the  land  out  of 
sight  of  the  ship,  and  Africa  and  the  sun  went  down  be- 
hind the  round  horizon  together. 


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